The weird Misadventures of Laura in Middle Earth
by WeilIchsKann
Summary: Getting dropped into Middle-Earth is easy, right? Sign up as a 10th Walker, get Leggy to fall in love with you, melt down some evil jewelry, marry him. Piece of cake. That is, of course, until some crazy OC decides to mess with the plot and screws all of Middle-Earth over in the process. There is no undo button in real life. Bookverse, later AU.
1. Of Knights and Orcs

**The weird Misadventures of Laura in Middle Earth**

**Prologue: Of Knights and Orcs**

"Okay, guys!" Sebastian has to shout for his voice to be heard over the general chaos filling the camp, but it doesn't help much. The people surrounding us keep doing whatever they were doing and simply ignore their captain. I watch with a grin as the young man lets out a frustrated growl and climbs upon a barrel to try again, this time even louder. "Everyone! Shut up and listen!" The people closest to Sebastian's barrel turn to face him and slowly the noise of the group of fifty people dies down.

"Thank you," he mutters when the clattering of armor has finally stopped. With a glare at a group of Roman soldiers that still haven't stopped talking, he continues. "Anyway... The plan goes as follows: We're gonna move out in half an hour and meet up with the treehuggers at the big Clearing. After that we'll move to the Meadow together and kick some orc asses!" Sebastian draws his sword and points it skyward. That move might have looked awesome and epic, if the sword hadn't been a stick wrapped in foam. Also the jeans and t-shirt peeking out from under his armor make the whole thing look quite anticlimactic. Not that I'm looking any better.

But nobody cares about those kinds of details and Sebastian's elaborate battle plan is met with a roar of approval from the rest of the camp. "Treehuggers?" Mark, one of my friends shoots me a questioning glance, while Sebastian jumps down from his barrel.

"He means Elves."

"Ohh."

As opposed to most of the weekend warriors, Mark, Sebastian and I are already wearing our armor. The reason for that is probably Sebastian, who had kicked us out of bed way too early and had proceeded to bore us out of our minds with long winded explanations on orc battle strategies. In the end a Roman captain had managed to wrap the hour long talk up in one short and quite beautiful sentence: Charge and kill shit.

Anyway, right now we are standing in the middle of the muddy campground, while a bunch of half dressed players are trying to get their gear together around us. And from what I had heard earlier, we are already about an hour behind schedule for the final battle.

This is my first LARP ever. Sebastian is the one who is into this kind of stuff, and now, after months of failed attempts to bribe Mark and me, he and his friends finally managed to drag us both into one of these events. The bribe had been cookies, a butt-load of food, and doing our math homework for the remainder of the semester. They had agreed to our terms and here we are. The guys had even given us some basic gear, which was really nice of them: ring mail, helmets, shin and forearm guards and, of course, swords. No real swords, mind you. We don't want to slice people to pieces, after all. I had even managed to get my hands on a wool cloak beforehand.

Luckily no one cares about the t-shirts or sneakers we are wearing under the medieval stuff. Considering the amount of people who had been walking around the camp while typing away on their iPhones, that didn't come as much of a surprise. But to be honest, all these dressed up people looked quite impressive. Not as much as the orcs, who have really awesome armor and masks and everything. But still, I wouldn't want to run into the Roman guys at night in a dark ally.

Sebastian has finally managed to elbow his way through the crowd and is jogging towards us. "Ready to kick these bastards' asses?," he asks with a huge grin plastered onto his face.

"Yeah, sure." An equally big grin spreads on my face while Mark nods his consent beside me. From what I have heard, the Orc Camp won the final battle for the last four years. This time however, the Elven, Human, and Dwarven Camps forged an alliance to finally end the Orc Camp's reign.

By now a slowly growing group of warriors is gathering at the gate (which is really a gap in the rope that marks the Human Camp's borders). There are still some people running around and searching for whatever gear they are lacking, but it seems like everyone is going to be ready in about a few minute's time. Finally!

We make our way to the gate while Sebastian rambles on about his strategy. I am not really listening. From what I have heard, the battle will most likely dissolve into a bunch of one vs one fights sooner or later. Plus by now I have listened to the whole thing about four times. And those are only the in-game times.

It takes about ten minutes for everyone to finally get dressed. Mark and I have taken guesses on what is taking people so long. We gave up, however, when I heard someone ask something along the lines of 'do I look fat in this armor?'.

After Sebastian has made sure that everyone has cleared out of the camp, we get moving. Everyone is looking forward to the final battle, especially now that we stand a chance against these bastard orcs. Most people are chatting idly until someone somewhere starts singing. It sounds a bit like one of the Hobbit credit songs, but with no one hitting the right notes, guessing becomes rather difficult. It is still better than the Latin crap some of the Romans sang until some Chaos Mage threatened to turn them into frogs until the LARP ended.

That shut them up. It had also earned the Chaos Mage the eternal gratitude of everyone else in the Human Camp.

The meeting point isn't far away from our camp – ten minutes at best – but I still start sweating before it even comes into view. The day has become surprisingly warm for the middle of October and I am slowly starting to regret taking the cloak with me. The heavy mail shirt isn't helping either.

About twenty elves are chilling in the clearing, most of them have taken seats around a group of wooden picnic tables in the middle of it. They are mostly armed with bows and dressed in green or brown. I also spy a ton of wigs and glue-on ears. Their leader, a guy with a blond longhair wig, green tights and weird looking fairy wings on his back, gets up to greet us as soon as we step out of the forest.

Wig-Legolas, as I decide to dub the Elven captain, starts talking in what must be Elvish. As soon as he falls silent, Sebastian steps forward and greets him with a broad gin and a simple "Hey, mate."

The Elf gives him an are-you-serious look, but continues anyway, this time in English. "So you finally chose to join us, mortals?"

"Yeah... Well, we had some trouble back at the camp. Sorry for being late, man." Sebastian gestures in the direction of the camp and shrugs. Wig-Legolas just gives a sigh and an eye roll before motioning at his army to get up and take their places next to us.

From the picnic area it's another five minute walk until we reach the Meadow where the final battle against the orcs is going to take place. Most of the march there is spent talking with the Elves, except for wig-Legolas, who still seems to be a bit miffed. But really, after four days it feels really good to talk to guys from other camps. Well, I for one had a few chances to talk to the Elves as I had been hanging out with Sebastian most of the time, but some of the others barely had that opportunity.

We hear the dwarves and orcs long before we see them. There seems to be a trash talk competition going on between the two armies, and from the angry orcish curses echoing through the trees I guess that the dwarves are winning. There is of course laughter mixed in – mostly after someone cracks an especially hilarious Yo Mama joke, so it is all good natured.

When I step out onto the field, I am greeted with the sight of about two hundred orcs on the one side and maybe fifty dwarves on the other. There are also a bunch of game masters in bright orange shirts running around and some medics are sitting on the grass a few steps away from a big table loaded with bottled water.

We take our places next to the dwarves while I am still wondering where the Game Masters get all these awesome looking orcs. Like, really. These guys are easily wearing the best costumes I have ever seen. They might be even up to par with the stuff the Uruks wore in the Lord of the Rings movies. Their armor is gleaming in the sunlight and the same goes for the tips of their spears and swords. All in all it is a scary sight.

Or it would be, if we all hadn't been sure that the weapons met every single required safety regulation.

I end up at the right flank, next to a bunch of dwarves with huge axes and equally huge beards. The beards look quite real, the axes... not so much. Plus most of the dwarves are taller than me. I try to get a good look at the orcs over their shoulders, but am met with a wall of heads, even more shoulders, and spear shafts. Aww man.

I can, however, hear the shouts of the orcs. Even their voice acting is scary good. They sound like what I would imagine real orcs to sound like. Sadly, they don't sport the epic British accents. That would have been hilarious.

Mark positions himself next to me while the Elven archers take positions behind the combined dwarf/human army. It takes about another five minutes of shouting and shuffling around until the Game Masters finally give the signal to get ready. I draw my sword and take a deep breath. Even though this is just a game, the thought of having a metric ton of orc players charging at our position kind of scares me a bit.

Then somebody shouts "For Middle-Earth!" and everyone sprints forward, Mark and I included. That battle cry is taken up by most. A few others are shouting in Elvish or some other languages I can't identify over the general chaos. From there on it takes about five seconds for shit to hit the fan. The orcs are banging their weapons against their shields while running and scream in their crazy good orc voices.

However, as soon as the groups of players collide, panicked screams erupt from the rows in front of me and the charge comes to a sudden halt. I nearly slam into the back of the guy in front of me, when everyone suddenly stops and starts moving backward. Mark and I are standing in the fourth row, so we don't immediately see what's going on. I can hear some of the Game Masters shouting into their megaphones, but the general noise drowns out whatever they are saying.

People behind us seem to have noticed that something is wrong and everyone starts to retreat towards the forest. At some point people are even shouting 'retreat!'. It looks like whoever took command actually managed to organize an ordered retreat, but before I get the chance to turn and run away from whatever the hell is going on, one of the dwarves in front of me crumples on the ground and reveals a group of dudes with the most real looking orc-masks ever: greyish, scarred skin, yellow eyes, and rows of teeth that appear to haven been sharpened.

The... creatures – I am at that point pretty sure that these guys are not our orc players – are smelling worse than anything I ever had the misfortune to smell. Like a mixture of three week old roadkill, my grandma's fridge, public toilet, and old sports socks. I'm about to throw up then and there, when I notice the blood dripping from their weapons.

For some reason this whole scenes reminds me of that one movie with Peter Dinklage and that crazy ex-girlfriend demon, that a friend of mine pirated a week ago... Right. Priorities.

What does one do when three murderous looking orcs with bloody swords are coming towards you? Run.

What do I do? "What the flying fuck, man!" I just stare at them in utter shock. When one of them jumps forward with a loud screech – yes, sometimes orcs do apparently screech – I manage to stumble back just in time for its sword to miss my nose.

Mark grabs my arm and drags me backward, away from the battle, but the orcs are hot on our heals. People and monsters are running around everywhere and I have to watch where I'm going to not trip on a corpse or injured dude. An Elf sprints past me but gets cut down by a brutal sword-slash. The orcs catch up to us when we are only a few steps away from the forest surrounding the Meadow.

Both of us are by now drenched in sweat and gasping for air. Running for your life in ring mail is not the greatest idea if you have the stamina of a lazy-ass gamer. The orc closest to us swings his sword at me. I manage to get the LARP sword up in time to block the blow clumsily. Orcs might be incredible bad at sword fighting, that however, is not much of an advantage when you are about as bad as them. Right next to me Mark has obviously kicked one of the orcs in the balls and, while the creature crumpled a bit, has given it a nice head-shot with the sword. My orc attacks once more, but this time his blow cuts right through the LARP sword.

Well, that's Fiberglas and foam for you, I guess. I stare at the broken stick for a second, before I quickly take another step back to get out of the orc's range. But my foot doesn't step onto grass. Instead there is just thin air. Too late I remember the steep hillside on one side of the Meadow. Well, crap.

There is no way I can keep my balance. With a surprised shout I fall backwards, thankfully avoiding most of the orc's attack. His sword still manages to rip through the cheap mail and leaves an aching scratch on my right arm. In the same moment I see one of the two orcs that were attacking Mark run him through with its blade. All of this happens in probably under a second, than Mark and the orcs vanish from my field of vision while I roll down the hillside.

This is the point were things started to go downhill in my life. Quite literally, actually. But before we get into all of that, let me introduce myself.

The name is Laura. Laura Hoffmann, if you want to be precise. But seriously, where we are going, no one cares about last names anyway. At least as long as you aren't a hobbit or a dude from Bree or it's something cool like Elessar, but we will get to that.

Before the shit hit the fan I had been your typical college student. Well, the lazy, gaming, pizza munching kind. I had been two semesters away from finishing my computer science Bachelor and was looking forward to enrolling at a different university to get the Master's degree.

Apart from that? Well, I managed to turn 22 without even getting remotely close to having a boyfriend and spent way too much time playing LoL, Skyrim and whatever other games looked even slightly interesting to me. Same goes for books and movies. While everyone else was out at the club, you would have most likely found me in front of a computer watching Netflix or playing games.

What else is there to tell about me? That I am afraid of dogs and have a little sister? Well, I could probably fill a book with the unimportant details of my life, but that would be quite boring and would not help you understand this story in the slightest. Let's just get on with it and skip to the part of my life where I ended up hip deep in Middle Earth and fucked up the entire canon, alright?

**English is not my first language, so if you find any mistakes, please tell me! The original was posted by me on a German ff site under the title "Die verrückten Abenteuer der Laura Hoffman in Mittelerde" and I have permission to translate it.**

**Edit 13.5.15: Proofread by somecleverphrase. Thank you!**

**Edit 19.9.15: Beta'd by FlatlinedGamer! Thanks :D  
**


	2. A very random Encounter

**Chapter 1: A very random Encounter**

My fall down the hillside ends abruptly when I land in a pile of dry autumn leaves. What the fuck just happened? I replay the events of the last five minutes in my head, unable to come up with a logical explanation. Well... Except one: Maybe someone knocked me out and I ended up dreaming some weird-ass bullshit. That would work. Well, kind of. I normally don't realize that I'm dreaming and the cut on my arm feels pretty real. As do the twenty other bruises I collected while rolling down the freaking slope.

I lie in the pile of leaves, still unsure what to do next. On the one hand my brain is telling me to run away and get as much distance between me and these crazy orcs as possible. On the other hand Mark is somewhere up there with a sword stuck in his gut and I can't just leave him. We are friends after all. But before I make a decision I notice something else. Or, better, the lack of something.

The fall wasn't very long, but for some reason the only noise I can hear right now is the rustling of leaves in a light breeze and the chirping of a bird. What the hell? I should be able to hear at least a bit of what is going on in the Meadow, right? I close my eyes and concentrate, but there's still nothing. Well, that's strange.

I get up and curse under my breath. My limbs feel like I crashed into every tree and stone there is on the way down. I'll probably look like a freaking Dalmatian tomorrow. Luckily the cut on my arm isn't bleeding too badly and doesn't seem to be very deep either, so I'll just leave it for now. Though, I should get it checked out once I get back to... civilization. Yeah, whatever.

The hill is, as I had guessed, quite steep but the forest is not as dense as I had first thought. However... I pause and look around. Something is wrong. When Sebastian had explained his strategy for the first time, there had been a map of the surroundings on the table. That map had clearly shown a broad, frequently used road at the foot of this slope. The sight I'm greeted with is something completely different. A narrow path, overgrown and, from its looks, rarely in use.

Well, that's odd. I only had a short glance on the map and my attention had been focused on the battlefield. Maybe I just overlooked this path? I decide to try to get back to my friends. It has been enough time for someone to call 911 and the police will probably have arrived by now. So it should in theory be safe to get back there.

I'm an okay climber, so I should be able to get up there quite easily. With a shrug I start to clamber up the hill, but after a few meters the earth I had placed my feet on gives way and I slide back down. Crap. Two failed tries later I curse silently and give up. Pissed I kick the nearest tree. Said tree turns out to be a lot harder than my foot, causing me to drop another cluster F-Bomb.

Today is certainly not my best day.

Maybe there is a way from here to the Meadow, but I can't remember Sebastian's map well enough. Damn. The best course of action is probably to walk down the path to find a better, climbable point. And that is exactly what I do. I pick a direction at random and walk down the path as quickly as possible. The armor is slowing me down but I don't really want to discard it. After all, these orcs or monsters or whatever could be still here. Not that the cheap ring-mail I am wearing would help much. But it is better than nothing.

After ten minutes of walking no other path or a better climbable slope presents itself. I turn around with a sigh and try the other direction. I mean, come on! There has to be a way up there! I look up to the sky. It has to be around midday by now and it has gotten even warmer. I am really regretting having brought that cloak.

I am legging it through a forest, not having planned any further than 'reach the battlefield and see what's going on', dirty, splattered with blood that isn't mine, worried, and increasingly pissed. Great. Freaking awesome.

I'm so busy being pissed that I don't notice the person riding towards me until his shadow falls on me. What I see when I look up to him is one more thing to add to the list of weird shit I have seen today. The gray horse the dude is sitting on is gigantic. The dude himself is clad in leather and fur with some ring-mail thrown in for good measure. He also carries a sword and looks like he hasn't seen a shower in weeks. It's close to impossible to guess what his natural hair color might have been, but I'll take my chances and call it a dark blonde or maybe brown.

The guy doesn't look like anyone I have seen in the Human Camp and I don't remember anyone mentioning bringing a horse to the event, but his gear sure looks impressive. Just like the orcs' gear. Maybe I should get the fuck away from here. However, he hasn't drawn his sword yet or killed me before I noticed him. Plus, the look he's giving me now is more curious than hostile.

So maybe there is another LARP or some reenactment stuff going on here? Anyway, I decide to take my chances and ask the dude for the way up the hill. If he's riding around here he might know how to get to the Meadow. I conveniently ignore the fact that I'm walking around without having any clue on how to get anywhere.

The rider slows down a bit once he's next to me and gives me a curious/worried once-over. That's not surprising as I must be looking like shit with all the blood and dirt on my clothing, but I still need directions. Here goes nothing. "Hi! Uhm, sorry, but do you know how to get to the clearing up there?" I point at the hill and in the general direction of the Meadow.

The dude steadies his horse next to me. He looks tired as hell. "Are you injured?" When I shake my head, he continues. "Follow the path. After about a quarter of a mile it takes a sharp turn to the right and leads up the hill." Ah, nice... wait, why is he measuring stuff in miles? We are in the middle of freaking Europe! No one uses that weird system here. I don't have a problem with converting miles to kilometers, don't get me wrong. After reading the Lord of the Rings for the second time I had taken the time to look up how to do it. Plus, my dad and little sister had kept asking me to do the math for them when we were in the US for vacation. After three weeks of playing the human calculator (or Spock, as my dad had kept calling me), this stuff had become second nature. Maybe it's not as accurate as using a real calculator, because I'm using rounded values for my calculations, but one hell of a lot faster.

It's still kind of strange. I'm about to thank the guy, when he starts talking once more. "Pardon my asking, My Lady, what are you doing alone in the wild so far south from Imladris?"

Wait... What?

"Imlad-" I pause. Maybe I didn't catch the last word right, but to me it sounded a lot like the guy just asked what I was doing south of Rivendell.

The guy reads my confused and maybe shocked expression as incomprehension and quickly adds: "Rivendell, the home of Lord Elrond Half-elven." Okay, that doesn't make it any better, but at least I didn't misunderstand him. This conversation still got one hell of a lot weirder.

"Okay, look. I really appreciate the effort and everything, but can you go OOC for a sec?" Now the dude looks at me like I had grown a second head or started to talk Klingon or something. Seriously, what is with people today? "Never mind. Just forget I said that, alright?" He just nods. Anyway, I just have to get rid of this guy and be on my way. Might as well play along with him if that works better. "We were attacked by orcs and I have to find my friends. They might be hurt... or worse. So, if you'd excuse me, I'm in a bit of a hurry."

Sadly, my plan utterly fails. The dude jumps off his horse and draws the sword before quickly scanning our surroundings. I make sure to get out of the guy's range, because that blade looks freaking sharp. I think about making a run for it, but the dude has a horse and is about one and a half heads taller than I. Well... Let's hope he wants to use that sword against hypothetical orcs. Otherwise, I am most likely toast. I'd probably better not piss him off.

"Orcs! That is ill news. I heard about trouble in the north, but orcs leaving the mountains and ambushing travelers in the bright of day... This is truly ill news." He pauses and after a moment of thinking turns his horse around. "You should not wander the wild alone in dark times like these. I shall accompany you to that clearing, but I doubt you will find anything there." And with that he starts walking.

I hurry up to match the dude's walking speed and give him a confused look. "Why? There was a big, bloody battle half an hour ago. No one could have cleaned that up in such a short amount of time." I point at the blood on my ring-mail to get the point across. The dude furrows his brow and shoots it a disapproving look. Like, really. Chances are we will walk right into a large scale police operation or something. But whatever. As long as I get there without getting stabbed, that's fine by me.

"I can only tell you what I saw. There was no indication of a battle when I rode past that place." He shrugs. "My Lady, if you don't mind me asking... what was your destination before your company was attacked?"

Well, that's weird. Maybe the dude is wrong or saw the wrong clearing. That is at least the most logical explanation. There is no way in hell I could have imagined that fucked up battle. My brain might produce some strange things sometimes. But that? And his question... Hm. I am luckily quite good at improvising stuff, so that isn't much of a challenge. If this guy is that much of a Lord of the Rings nerd, fine. "Rivendell. We were on the way to Rivendell." There you go. Happy now?

"In this case I can offer you my assistance, for I too am on my way to Imladris with an errand. You may accompany me, if you wish." Man, this guy is good at talking Medieval.

"Right... Uhm, thanks." Chances are I will never have to fall back to that offer. But what if he's right, the paranoid part of my brain adds. If there really is no one? I would have loved to say 'bullshit, that's impossible', but real orcs had been impossible too until maybe an hour ago. So what if he is right? I could, of course, try to get back to the camp, but with the possibility of running into orcs in the woods... No thanks, I value my life. I also don't have a mobile with me, which sucks. So calling for help from here won't work. It's also quite a way from here to the nearest town or Autobahn, plus I have no idea how to get there.

Crap.

Okay. In the unlikely case that Sir Dude here is right and there really is no one and nothing at the clearing, I might as well go with him and check out that Rivendell place of his. Chances are they will have a phone or computer. I mean, it's not like he is on road to Middle-Earth Rivendell. It's most likely going to be some kind of inn or hotel or whatever where his reenactment-friends are chilling.

Wait... isn't that how all these horrible cliche horror movies start? But seeing how we got orcs running around the forest, the chances of running into a crazy serial killer in the same forest are technically nonexistent. In this case... screw it, the dude has a sword. If he is right I'm sure as fuck not going to go alone. That's how people die in these horrible cliche horror movies!

The way has taken a turn to the right and has by now climbed most of the hill. Right now it's running parallel to the cliff I fell off of earlier. All in all, it was quite a big detour and we must have walked about a kilometer by now. As I look around, I notice that the surroundings look kind of familiar. Looks like we are getting somewhere. As we draw closer to the Meadow, I start feeling tense. I doubt I'm ready to see whatever happened there. Especially if it includes seeing people I like dead, but I can't hear any sirens, screams, or even people talking. What the fuck?

A moment later we step out of the forest and into the sunlit Meadow. Or, well, a clearing that looks exactly like the Meadow. Trees, grass, bushes... everything looks the same. But there is no trace of blood or dead people or, really, anything out of the ordinary. Relief washes over me. After all, there is a chance that everyone else is alright and I have just taken a hard hit on the head or something... It makes sense. The orc incident, some dude telling me he is going to Rivendell... all of that is way too fucked up to be real. On the other hand I'm not so sure. All of this feels so real.

I take another look around, hoping to find something to tell me what's going on here. But there is nothing. Just a beautiful clearing in the middle of a sunlit forest, the wannabe-knight, his horse and me. Well then... "I'd like to accompany you to Rivendell, if you don't mind," I say with a flat voice. God, saying that out loud makes me sound plain crazy.

The dude looks down at me and says: "I am sorry I could not help you, my Lady." He sounds sincerely sorry as he says it. "But maybe the elves have received news of your companions and can help you find them, once we arrive at Imladris." Elves. Right.

"I sure hope so." After a short pause I add: "By the way, I'm Laura. And can you please stop that 'my Lady' crap?" If we are going to travel together, knowing each others' name sounds like a good idea. And that Lady stuff makes me feel really uncomfortable. It's not like I look lady-like with all that blood and dirt on me.

To be honest, it's not like I look lady-like, ever.

"That is a strange name," the dude comments. "I am Boromir of Gondor." He bows slightly.

I should get a bodyguard that is not Sean fucking Bean.

Plus this reminds me of all those incredibly cheesy fanfictions you come across when you go to the weird parts of the internet. The kind where squealing fangirls hook up with everything that has a heartbeat and isn't Gimli. And of course join the fellowship as a tenth member. Well, that last bit doesn't sound too bad. I mean, why not? After all, this is just some fucked up dream.

Chances are, I will wake up soon enough with a big freaking bump on my head before we even get close to Rivendell.

**Thanks to alexma and Guest for reviewing! It means a lot and I really hope you enjoy this chapter as well! And thanks to everyone who faved or followed this, too.**

**I really hope the difference in speech between the LotR characters and the OC is noticeable and that I didn't screw up the grammar too much. Feedback on that matter is greatly appreciated. See you next time!**

**Edit: Beta'd by FlatlinedGamer!**


	3. On the road to somewhere

**Chapter 2: On the road to... somewhere**

I give Boromir or whoever this guy is a curious once-over. He does indeed carry the Horn of Gondor and a big-ass roundshield is fastened to the horse's saddle. The guy doesn't look like he has an ID on him so that I can confirm his identity, but if I remember correctly both horn and shield were handed down in the line of the stewards. Seeing how he has both items, chances are high that this dude is indeed who he claims to be. And he should be quite trustworthy... as long as there are no magic rings around.

Meanwhile, my inner fangirl is frantically searching for a Sharpie to get an autograph on her shirt.

"So... Uhm, nice to meet you." I have no clue on how to say 'hi' to people in Middle Earth in a way that doesn't make me look completely out of place. Maybe I should ask someone about that at some point. "Let's get moving?" We have been hanging out here way too long already in my opinion and there might still be a metric ton of orcs somewhere in the vicinity (and I seriously hope to never have to meet them again). I start to walk back into the forest, but Boromir stops me.

"Wait." I turn around again and rise an eyebrow at him. "It would be discourteous to have you walk while I ride." Oh. Right. I forgot about that kind of stuff. Maybe I should ask Boromir about that greeting. He seems to be familiar with that kind of stuff. The Gondorian offers me the saddle of his horse.

"Oh, no. It's fine. I can keep walking. But thanks anyway."

That obviously was the wrong thing to say. A short discussion including an epic stare down ensures. In the end I give up. We have to get moving after all, because Boromir does have an important meeting to attend and we already wasted a lot of time here. Plus there is still the danger of Death by Orcs, something I'd like to avoid. I clamber onto the horse's back – the whole thing must have looked really awkward, even though I have had riding lessons when I was younger – and we finally start the journey towards Rivendell.

There isn't much talk during the rest of the day. Most of it was probably me, when I tried to trade places with Boromir because I felt bad for making him walk the whole afternoon. The dude, however, declined in a very polite fashion and kept walking. The novelty of the whole situation fades pretty fast and leaves me once more worrying about Sebastian and Mark. Sadly there is absolutely nothing I can do for them right now. I do however keep an eye out for anything hiding between the trees.

As the day drags on I wait for Boromir to do something suspicious. Whip out a phone, glance at a wristwatch, anything, really. The guy doesn't even use contractions when talking! Well, except for ''Tis', which doesn't help either. There's no reaction to pop culture jokes either. It's ridiculous, really.

The sun is already setting when we finally leave the woods behind and step out onto open terrain. There seem to be some barren hills in the east and behind them I can make out the faint shape of a mountain range. That must be the Misty Mountains! Awesome! The path we have been following all day seems to be in a better state here, but it still doesn't look like it has seen much use during the last few months.

When we stop, the moon is already high in the sky and it's probably way after midnight. I'm at this point about to fall asleep on horseback, so I'm glad when Boromir leads the horse to a pan a few meters away from the path. I half slide, half fall of its back and stand around awkwardly, while the dude rummages around the saddlebags and pulls out some dried fruit and bread. He doesn't ask for any help and seeing how I have no clue what to do, I'm content with watching him closely. It doesn't take him long to get a small fire going, which I am really thankful for. After sundown the temperatures dropped an impressive amount and I'm freezing under my cloak.

I quickly eat my share of food, before peeling back the mail and fabric on my arm and taking a closer look at the scratch that piece of shit orc gave me. Upton asking, Boromir who has sat down on the other side of the fire hands me some water and a clean cloth. Well, as 'clean' as a cloth can be when it's owned by a dude who has been traveling the wild for months. I clean the cut and bandage it. It really isn't deep or long, so I should be fine. Boromir watches the whole thing but doesn't comment on it.

I go to sleep soon after. Boromir has handed me a spare blanket and I'm glad about that. It's really freaking cold, after all. When I take of my mailshirt, Boromir turns away like he could catch the plague from looking at the stuff I'm wearing under it.

I wake up because someone is shaking my shoulder. My first thought is, that I'm probably late for college and my flatmate decided to come into my room and wake me up. But the realization that it's freaking cold for some reason and that my hair is damp from drew quickly brings me back to reality... Or whatever this is.

It must be really early because the sun hasn't even fully risen, bathing the land in a cold, pallid light. Not like there is much to see, anyway. Most details are lost in the early morning fog and it's even colder than yesterday. I yawn and shake my head to at least get rid of some of the water in my hair. At that point I'm glad to have short hair. It doesn't take long to dry and doesn't get in the way too much.

Boromir is already getting his stuff together and grumbles something unintelligible when he notices that I'm up, to which I reply with a tired "Morning". The guy looks like he could use a cup of super strong coffee. Or ten. Ah, well. I wonder if there even is something remotely related to coffee in Middle Earth. I personally am more of a tea person, but it's still an interesting question. Breakfast doesn't take us more than five minutes and after saddling and loading the horse, we are on the road again.

Once the sun fully rises above the Misty Mountains, the mist finally starts to clear out and it gets a bit warmer. The landscape, however, doesn't change much during the day. We travel in silence, until Boromir finally decides to break it. "Tell me, where do you hail from? Your manner of speaking and your name sound strange to me."

Ah, great. Well, time to pull some cliché stories out of my arse. That always seems to work in these fanfics, so why not here? Plus it's probably more plausible than telling the truth about myself. "I'm from western Rohan, you know." I had read up a bit on Rohan at home and I know a bit about what's going on there right now, which is pretty good for my cover story. And thanks to the lack of technology people can't simply run background checks on you. I'll just have to hope I won't ever get into a situation where I'd have to speak Rohirric. That would suck. Also I'm not terribly familiar with their culture. So... it would probably be better to steer clear of the topic as a whole.

"I did not realize women were riding with the Rohirrim?"

"Well, they don't." I shrug. Time for the most cliché story ever. "I wanted to accompany a good friend of mine who had been tasked with bringing news to Rivendell, but they wouldn't let me. So I dressed up and followed them anyway. By the time they realized who was riding with them, it was too late to send me back alone." Sadly my name doesn't fit that story in any way, and guessing from the look Boromir is giving me right now he knows that I know that this is utter bullshit.

Damn you, fanfics! Time for a strategic change of subject. "And what about you? You said you were from Gondor, right?"

Luckily Boromir doesn't dwell on the subject, but I'm sure that he is taking a mental note to come back to this later. "My father, the Steward of Gondor, has sent me to Imladris with news and questions that Lord Elrond might be able to answer." Right. That riddle-thingy. Something about the end being close and the ring, if I'm not mistaken. "But I do not dare to talk about it here, for there might be unfriendly ears nearby." He looks around like he's expecting some squirrel or mouse to immediately run off towards Mordor. Or Isengart, of course.

I nod. "I see. Let's hope you find whatever answers you are looking for. You have come a pretty long way from Gondor after all."

"So you would not wish for me to find answers if I came from a village near Imladris?"

"Wha-? No, that's not what I meant!" Okay, I left myself wide open for that one. But seriously, who expects Boromir of all people to use that opportunity? Whatever. It is good to see that the guy has a decent sense of humor.

"Forgive me, I should not have said that." Really? Is he really trying to apologize for a joke? What the hell, man.

"No, don't. It's fine. Normally I know a joke when I hear one. I just didn't think you'd do that." I shrug and grin at him. "Stupid jokes are in my opinion way better than thinking about who might be eavesdropping on a serious conversation." And really... Saruman and Sauron sure could learn something by listening to people cracking jokes.

We continue in silence. The sun is creeping across the sky and it is getting warmer. We don't even stop for lunch and again, ride until after sundown. The landscape stays the same while the days turn into a week. During that time I realize how utterly useless my skill set is for surviving in the wild. It's not like there are any computers to repair or equations to be solved here... I do, however, pick up on most of the essential stuff like starting a fire after two or three days of watching Boromir.

We come across little groves or streams once in a while, but that's about it. The landscape here is really boring, except maybe for the Misty Mountains in the background. Heck, not even the fact that it's freaking Middle Earth can give the barren hills we have been passing for days now any sort or appeal.

The scratch on my arm is healing just fine, which is good. If it had gotten infected out here, I would probably have been toast. Or at least pretty close to being toast, depending on Boromir's healing skills.

Boromir showed me a map after the frst week, but it wasn't as accurate as the Middle Earth maps I have at home. Hobbiton and Rivendell for example weren't even on it. Most of the Shire was actually a big, white spot. But from what I remembered from my maps, we're getting close to the hidden valley. And thinking about how Boromir managed to find it on his own in the original story, we should be just fine. When Boromir asked for my theory on the location of Rivendell, I vaguely pointed at the spot on the map, where it should have been, but said that it was only a guess. The Gondorian just nodded, before going back to studying the map, while I finished my breakfast.

After about two more weeks, we are moving across a windy and muddy highland. It's probably been three weeks since the battle and I'm slowly beginning to doubt that this is just a dream. The path we had been following all the time looks like it used more than once a year up here and maybe an hour ago it even met with another path coming from the west. The few trees that grow up here are thin, weather-beaten and crippled things, that look like they could survive an atomic winter. There are some bushes scattered across the landscape, but that's about it.

Boromir looks around with a doubtful look and mutters: "Who would wish to wander such forsaken lands? There is nothing here but wind, mud and -" He stops dead in his tracks and his jaw drops. Okay, that's a weird reaction. Did he see an orc taking a shit in the darkness ahead? I follow his gaze and suddenly Boromir's expression makes sense.

We are looking down at a well hidden trench between mountains. Somewhere far beneath us, at the bottom of the valley, I can see colorful lights gleaming in the darkness.

"Well," I can't help but grin. "Looks like we made it! Wait... Do you guys in Gondor know what a 'high five' is?" That would be so awesome. Please say yes. Please -

"I have never heard of such a thing."

Aww, damnit.

**Yay, reviews to answer! First of all: Thanks to all of you for taking the time to comment, fav, read and follow. You are awesome :D**

**Cheez Socks: Thanks! It's good to know that people like the OC. I hope you enjoyed this chapter then :D**

**TheBigOne: Wow, when I think about all the amazing stuff floating around here that's a pretty huge compliment. Thanks, man! I just checked the profiles of some really awesome authors, but couldn't find their nationalities. Dangit, lol**

**SortingHat: Thank you! Yeah, I, too, noticed that in some SIs (and to be honest, there are a few parts where I did that in the original version, too :/ Part of it was laziness and another part was not wanting to change the story at some points...). But it's kind of weird (and boring) when 90% of the story go like that... I mean, come on! You can do better than changing only Legolas' relationship status.**

**The Mary Sue theory sounds good and you might be on to something there.  
**

**Edit 18.5.2015: Couldn't math while writing this, so I had to adjust a few things.  
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	4. Boromir, the dirty traitor

**Chapter 3: Boromir, the dirty traitor**

We arrive at Rivendell in the early hours of what I believe is the 24th of October. I can't help but smile at the sight. There are only a few colorful lanterns glowing in the windows of the distant house. I can also make out thr faint shapes of a few other buildings spread out across the valley, but all of them are dark. That's not surprising, seeing how late it is. Elegant stone bridges span the river running through the valley. There are also a lot of trees growing on the mountain flanks. I can't see any details in the dark, but the smell indicates they are pines.

"Whoa." Seeing this place for real is incredible. I've seen Rivendell in the movies and on drawings and everything, but this... it's amazing. And PJ didn't do it justice in the movies, as far as I can tell from up here. But we'll see about that soon enough, I guess. "We made it to Rivendell!" I grin down at Boromir. The guy seems to relax a bit. During the last few days he had looked really tense and had talked even less than normal, but in the darkness it's kind of hard to tell.

"Indeed. But come. I could use a hot bath and a fresh meal."

"And a soft bed! I've slept on enough stones and roots to last me a few months." Boromir lets out a short laugh as I say that and starts leading the horse down the path. As I look down into the valley again, my last doubts about this really being Middle-Earth vanish.

"Yes, I agree. I would not mind sleeping in a real bed either. But I am afraid, that this will have to wait for a bit." The slope is getting steeper and I have to dismount. We scramble down the white gravel path, that is winding down the mountainside. It takes a while until we reach the first trees, which are indeed pines.

As soon as we enter the shadow of the forest, two tall figures emerge from the trees. Their appearance nearly makes my yaw drop. They are clad in silver armor and long, fawn cloaks. Both are carrying slender swords and a strange glow is surrounding them. I'm not sure if that is just a reflection of moonlight or these guys are really emitting a faint light. They are probably the most beautiful people I've ever seen. Holy crap, these guys must be elves of Rivendell! There is no way anyone else in Middle-Earth looks like this.

But why are elves bioluminiscent? That's kind of weird if you think about it...

"_Daro__!_" The dark haired elf steps forward and blocks our path. "Tell us your names and your purpose, strangers. Afterwards we shall decide if you may traverse the borders of Imladris." Hm? I've never heard about guards in Rivendell, but it does make sense. There have been Nazgûl and orcs running amok near this place so it is logical to be careful.

"I am Boromir, son of Denethor, from Gondor. I have come to ask Lord Elrond's advice in an important matter. And this" - Boromir points at me - "is Laura of Rohan, who has come here to bring word from the south."

The elves exchange a few sentences in their melodic language, before they sheath their swords and turn to face us once more. The dark haired elf starts talking once again. "You may pass. Welcome to Imladris, Lord Boromir, Lady Laura. _Hannam an i 'ovannas!_" The elves step to the side and vanish in the shadows as quick and silently as they have appeared. I just stare at the trees in disbelieve. These guys would have made darn good Ninjas.

"Hey." Boromir nudges in the side. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah... yeah, I'm fine." Now that we are allowed to enter the valley, we get going again and slowly continue our descend. It is breathtaking, in a way. The trees, the lights and the smell of pine in the air...

"You should be careful," Boromir says in a low voice and glances back at the point, where the guards had vanished. "These elves are strange folk. They may be wise, but you never know what their motives might be. They say mortals are but pieces on their chessboard. What?" Boromir must have noticed the what-the-fuck look I'm giving him.

"Yet you came all the way from Minas Tirith to talk to them," I comment and rise an eyebrow at him. Colorful lanterns adorn some of the wayside trees and it is warm down here. To me it feels more like a mild summer evening than a day at the brink of winter. Maybe that's one of the powers of Elrond's ring, just like in Lórien. By now I feel like I could sleep on my feet. Ah, well. That's elven magic, I guess.

Boromir just shrugs. "I am just saying that placing your trust on these people might be dangerous." Right... You aren't paranoid at all, are you, mate? We have arrived at one of the bridges and the house of Elrond comes into view. I can't make out many details, but some windows are still lit and the whole building seems to be quite big. Ivy is climbing up the walls and sleek pillars while a yellow lantern is illuminating the front porch.

We walk up to the door and I'm wondering if we should knock or not, when the door opens and three elves with small lights in their hands step outside. I have no clue how the guards managed to inform them of our arrival before we got here. Maybe light signals? Who knows. Or maybe they saw us crossing the bridge. Whatever. One of the elves takes the horse and leads it away, while the other two welcome us, but I'm barely listening. Finally they motion at us to follow them inside.

I'm led through a hall and up a wooden flight of stairs, where I mutter a quick good night to Boromir. He gives me a smile and continues down a different hall. My elf, a dark haired woman, leads me down a long corridor until she finally opens a door to a small room with a bed in it. I utter a thank-you and the she-elf curtsies and leaves. A bed! Finally! After getting out of the armor and most of my dirty clothing, I collapse into bed and fall asleep almost immediately.

When I wake, bright sunlight is streaming into my room. Birds are chirping outside and I can hear the faint sound of laughter. It takes me a moment to figure out why I'm waking up to a dark, high wood ceiling, but then it hits me. We made it to Rivendell yesterday! Yay! I take a quick glance around the room. My dirty clothes which I had carelessly left on a chair yesterday are gone.

Holy crap, luckily I had decided against wearing that Mordor-University-Shirt under my armor. It would have been hard to explain _that_ to anyone here. Plus the 'one does not simply walk into it' joke would have been lost on them. But whoever took them thankfully had left a tray with breakfast on it behind. A stack of what appears to be fresh clothing is sitting on a small wooden desk. A bulky and kind of dark looking wardrobe completes the interior of the small room.

The fact that someone entered my room while I slept to grab my stuff and leave behind food kind of creeps me out. My sleep is normally pretty light, but whoever did that managed to sneak away without waking me up, which is really impressive. But it's elves and Tolkien's books stated they had a light tread. But (not) seeing it in action is still really creepy... That reminds me of that one boring book, where the dude enjoys watching a random girl sleep. Would Aragorn do that with Arwen? Okay, that's one messed up train of thought.

The breakfast turns out to be delicious, even though it is a rather simple meal. The clothes are sadly all dresses. Dang it. The last time I wore a dress war probably two years ago when my little sister graduated... But what can you do? I am of course grateful for the clothes, but it's just... Weird, I guess. Five minutes later I'm ready to set out on the most important quest, ever: finding a place to take a bath.

It takes about half an hour of walking around the house and opening all kinds of doors, until I finally give up and ask the next best elf for help. The she-elf smiles at me and guides me to what seems to be a bathroom, where she offers to pour me a bath. I end up helping her, which earns me a funny look from the elf. When she offers to help me wash my hair it is my turn do give her a funny look and politely decline. I mean, why would some random person want to wash someone else's super greasy hair? Luckily the she-elf doesn't seen to be offended and leaves me to my bath.

A long soak later, I'm clean once more, and seriously, after three weeks in the wild plus four shower-free days of LARP that feels really good. The scratch on my arm has nearly completely healed, but it looks like I'll keep a thin, white scar from it. Well, that sucks, but seriously, who cares?

I end up walking around the house for a while - mostly because I'm hopelessly lost. The house might look big from the outside, but I'd bet my right hand that it's even bigger on the inside. Like Hermoine's handbag, but with less chaos. But it's interesting nontheless. While wandering the halls I came across the library, a big room with high, colored glass windows that made the white marble floor look like a colorful mosaique. The shelves were stuffed with books and scrolls and and elves were sitting on wooden tables near the windows. An eery silence filled the room, only broken by the sounds of light footsteps or pages being turned.

I also came across a few rooms with wide open balconies overlooking the gardens below, a few empty bedrooms and what looked like Elrond's study. Fortunately the elf lord wasn't there to complain about me bursting in, so I looked around for a moment and left before anyone could notice that I had even entered the office.

I've finally found my way to the entrance hall, when someone shouts: "Laura? Bloody hell, is that you?" Surprised I turn around. Sebastian is sprinting after me, a broad grin and the look of relieve on his face. He stops in front of me and shoots me an even bigger grin. "Hi! Are you okay? How'd you get here? Have you seen anyone else? Is-" I rise my hands in an attempt to stop the barrage of questions Sebastian is firing at me. He gets the hint and falls silent, giving me the opportunity to answer some of the stuff.

"Hey to you, too." I flash him a grin, but it's smaller than his. If he's asking me, if I have anyone with me... We'll see. "It's good to see you, man. And no, I didn't see anyone." I look around and watch as an elf walks past us. "Uhm, can we talk about this somewhere else?"

"Yeah, right. Come on." Sebastian takes the lead and walks outside. We follow a path away from the house and through a beautiful garden full of flowers I've never seen before. Once we are a good distance away from the house, Sebastian starts talking again. "I really hope they're gonna be fine. So... How'd you get here?"

As we continue to walk, I give him a short summery of my way to Imladris, starting with Mark getting stabbed by an orc. Thinking about that hurts... Till now I had tried to push that memory into the farthest corner of my mind, and now that I have to think about it, it comes back with all its might. And once again I'm left wondering if there is anything I could have done to help. Sebastian pales a bit when I tell him about Mark and curses under his breath. When I mention Boromir he just furrows his brow, but says nothing. "...and then we arived here yesterday evening. Well, that's my story. What about you?"

Sebastian hesitates for the briefest moment, before he nods and starts talking. Huh? What was that about? His tale, however, is both longer and more exiting than mine: he'd been the person who tried to get an organized retreat to work. It had looked good at the start, but then a group of orcs had flanked them and the players had fled into the forest. Sebastian's plan had been to make it to the parking lot and get the hell away from there, but the orcs had caught up with them long before they reached the cars. Sebastian had managed to get to the cars and had ducked behind a tree to evade a group of orcs, but when he had come out of his hidingplace, the world had looked differently. No cars, no orcs, no blood and no corpses. Just a plain forrest.

After having a mental blue-screen he had started to wander the forest until he met a group of people some hours later. Said people turned out to be the hobbits plus Strider. Sebastian had managed to snag a ride with them somehow and together they had continued to Rivendell. But Sebastian had had great timing and ended up on Weathertop with them - he physically shivered while talking about the Nazgûl - where Frodo got hurt. From that point onwards it was a race against time and a bunch of black riders to Rivendell. But shit hit the fan even harder. A bunch of orcs, probably some from the attack on our LARP, decided to help chase the group. In the end they had to fight, resulting in Aragorn and Merry getting hurt. Sebastian assured me that they'd be fine, but still. That wasn't right. Frodo should've been the only one to get hurt before Rivendell.

We walk in silence for a while, while I mull over his story. After a while I ask: "Did you tell them where you're from?" I don't want Boromir to find out how much bullshit I've been telling him, so checking up on Sebastian's story makes sense.

"Hell, no. I told them I was from the Sourth, but that's it." Sebastian shrugs. "Did you?"

"I've told Boromir I'm from Rohan. Some clichéd shit about not wanting to stay when my friends are sent north. I don't think he believed me though." I can't blame him for that either. That story is a huge pile of bullshit and about everyone who knows a bit about the culture of Rohan would have noticed how fake it is. I should have probably kept my background vague like Sebastian had. But now its too late and I'll have to roll with it. Somehow. But having someone to back the story up might help.

Sebastian nods slowly, brows furrowed. He doesn't seem too pleased. Hm, something is off with him today. I can't exactly pinpoint what it is, but the way he talks and generally holds himself is... somehow off. Nervous or scared maybe, but that's pushing it. Don't get me wrong. I, too, am worried about the other guys. But Sebastian? This doesn't look like worry or sadness to me. "Really?" He gives me an are-you-fucking-kidding-me look. "You do realize that this isn't some lame fanfiction?"

"Yeah, well, I do _now_. Back then I thought I'd wake up any minute anyway, so I didn't really care, okay?" Sebastian just sights when I say that, but doesn't comment on it. He's right after all and he knows that I know that he is. Once again silence descends upon us. The way we are taking through the gardens is lined with flowers and hedges. Now and then we come across marble benches next to the path, but so far all of them have been empty.

"So", I start after a few minutes. "What now?"

"What'd you mean?"

"What do we do next? The Ring's here, the fellowship is about to form... You know what I'm getting at." The dream of every LotR-crazy person out there could possibly come true for us! Plus we might find out about what happened to everyone else.

Sebastian gives me a shocked look. "No! Heck, no. Forget about it. There's no way I'm legging it across Middle Earth. Not with orcs and monsters and all that shit out for my blood." I'm about to answer, but he lowers his voice and whispers: "I've been on the road for, like, two weeks with Nazgûl chasing me. There's no way I'm leaving Rivendell while they are still alive." He shivers. "You haven't felt their presence. And you should be happy about that... It's... It's fucking unnatural." Sebastian looks like he's about to get a panic attack or something.

"Alright, alright... So...uhm... How do you like Rivendell so far?" I change the subject, hoping that that might calm him down a bit. And he's right. I _am_ glad to have avoided any run-ins with the Black Riders so far. And to be honest, seeing Sebastian this shaken makes me doubt my idea of joining the quest. It's not like any of us is trained for that kind of thing anyway. I did do some martial arts back home, but that's about it. And getting an orc into an armlock won't do much in a large scale battle.

On the other hand there're orcs running amok in our world, people got injured, killed or worse and I feel like being here kind of means that we're responsible for helping them out. It is a tough call to make and I'm afraid that in the end it'll be made by someone else. We'll have to wait and see what happens at the council. If Sebastian or I are even invited to it. If anyone is invited, it'll probably be him anyway, seeing how he is the guy and I shouldn't even be here according to my backstory.

Sebastian has calmed down a bit, while he talks about how beautiful Rivendell is. And he is right. It's awesome and insanely beautiful. Okay, some parts of the house look a bit cheesy, but it fits the overall style of the elves so well, I don't care. Plus it's Middle Earth. They don't know about that TVtropes stuff so it is kind of ridiculous to accuse them of being cheesy.

"What about Frodo?" That's something I've been wondering about for a while now. "Is he still sleeping?" It might also help me with figuring out, how far the story has progressed allready.

"No, actually. Pippin told me he woke up around midday, but from what I know he hasn't left his room yet. By the way, Elrond is going to host a big feast tonight to honor Frodo and Co." That means today is the 24th of October. Cool. I sadly still have no idea when the council will be taking place... Hm. Maybe I can get Boromir to tell me if Sebastian doesn't get an invite.

"That's good to hear."

"I thought I might have killed him, you know...", Sebastian says quietly. "These orcs found them because of me. And people did get hurt. They tried to get Frodo, but that elf, Glorfindel, helped us fight them off..." Sebastian falls silent again. Wait, Glorfindel? That means this is bookverse. Cool. Even though I know the films better, the books are still amazing. But unless I'm on the quest to Mt. Doom it shouldn't matter which version this is anyway. It's good to know though.

There's not much to say about Sebastian's fears. I can understand him and thinking that you might have killed the main character off must be a pretty scary thought. We leave the gardens and Sebastian stops in the middle of a bridge. If I'm not mistaken it's the stone bridge Boromir and I crossed yesterday. Sebastian leans against the railing and stares into the swirling water beneath us. I root through the information gained from the conversation. There are a bunch of things that begin to make sense now and some theories I had have been confirmed. But there is one more thing.

I have been stuck in Middle Earth for three weeks now. And it doesn't appear to be a mere dream. So... It's probably about time to start treating the whole thing as if it's real. Which means... I might not see my family or my friends again. Ever. The thought hurts, but less than one might expect. Maybe because I started realizing that that might happen a while ago. There's still a bit of hope, though. In some stories the people managed to return home in the end, so... I know I'm just clutching at straws here, but it's still a possibility.

But if Middle Earth is real and it is possible to switch between our world and this one, wouldn't that mean our whole science needs a workover? I wonder how that even works... Wormholes maybe? Or teleportation? Who knows. But I doubt we'll be ever able to tell anyone back home about this. Let alone cash in on the Nobel Price a discovery like this diserves.

Sebastian finally sights and looks up at me. "Look, what you do is your decision and I really hope you do the right thing... I won't leave Rivendell until all of this is over and done, okay? Maybe others find their way here or something and I can help them out. But after Weathertop... No, I'll stay here. It's not our world, y'know." I just nod, unsure what to say. Sebastian turns back to the waterfall, thus ending the conversation.

I just stand there for another second, before leaving. Anger is boiling in my chest, not necessarily because of Sebastian, but more because of the entire fucking situation. I think about going back inside, but stop in front of the door. This is pissing me off so much. All of this. Cursing under my breath I end up following a narrow path up a small hill. I don't exactly watch where I'm going and in the end find myself on a paved patio on top of a small hill. It's empty and and offers a beautiful view over the entire valley, which i completely ignore.

How can Sebastian give up if there are orcs running around in our world, killing stuff and doing whatever orcs do? Yes, I understand he's afraid to change stuff and mess up everything, but still! I can't sit by idly while people I care about might be in danger. And there has to be a way to get home... Maybe Galadriel knows how. But getting to Lórien on my own? No way.

And there it is again. The best idea ever: Traveling with the Fellowship. I sigh and shake my head. This freaking sucks. All of it. Whatever I do means that I'll have to be able to fight... Which I'm not. My anger slowly fades and makes way for a growing sense of frustration. Shit.

The sound of steps makes me jump in surprise. As I turn around, Boromir is standing there, a friendly smile on his face. "Greetings, Laura. Lord Elrond has asked me to inform you that a council will be held tomorrow at ten in the morning on the east side of the house." Right... Shouldn't I have talked to Elrond first before he invites me to his council? Maybe I should've searched for him or something... But it seems to be just fine, so whatever. "There will also be a feast tonight and I was not sure if you had heard about it already."

"Alright. Thank you." Actually this gives me an idea. "So, uhm, would you mind helping me with something? I'm kind of bad at fighting and was wondering if you could... uhm, maybe help me out?" Man, I hate having to ask for help or admitting I suck at something. It's about as bad as having to apologize for stuff.

Boromir's smile fades and is replaced with a frown. "No."

"'No'? Why?" The fuck?

"Because there is no need for that. You are a lady, after all. No one would dare attack you here." He sounds as if he is explaining that the sky is blue or that one plus one equals two. Come on dude, really?

"That's no explanation. But I'll have to return home at some point and I doubt that orcs will care if I'm a lady or not. Plus you didn't complain about my armor when we were traveling together. That wasn't lady-like either."

"Indeed. But then it was important for your safety. I assure you, Lord Elrond will find someone to accompany you back to Rohan."

"Right. Because people will enjoy having to protect me while we ride through half of Middle Earth."

"Yes." Okay, that one did surprise me. Well played, well played indeed.

"So... What about you? Our way here worked pretty well, don't you think?" That one must have surprised Boromir, because he takes a moment longer before answering.

"I have to return to my home as soon as possible. I am sorry, but taking a detour through your home would take too long."

"And I could say the same about the search for a companion," I deadpan, a tad annoyed by now.

We keep arguing until a distant bell rings somewhere at the house. That has to be the signal for dinner, which is nice. I'm actually pretty hungry, seeing how I haven't eaten since breakfast. Plus it does a grande job of shutting Boromir up. It's not like I didn't enjoy talking to Boromir - it is nice to verbally spar with someone and I don't blame him for having views that appear strange to me. This is Middle Earth after all. It does annoy me, of course. Who wouldn't be annoyed?

"Let us go back, for the feast is about to begin." And with that Boromir makes his way back down the hill. I am following close behind and take a look around. The sun is about to set behind the mountains in the west and a shadow has already crept across the valley. From up here I can see the lanterns hanging in the trees. Now, at dusk, they seem to shine even brighter. The same goes for the windows of Elrond's house. To be honest I can understand why Sebastian would prefer to stay here. Rivendell is beautiful and one of the safest places in all of Middle Earth, after all.

We arrive at the house where Boromir pushes open the heavy door and steps inside. But before I can follow him, he stops me. "I shall help you." I'm about to thank him, but he holds up a hand. "But under one condition: Tell me the truth about yourself and I shall teach you to fight." And with that he turns around and steps inside, a broad, shit-eating grin on his face.

That dirty traitor.

**Daro! - Stop!**

**Hannam an i 'ovannas! - Elvish goodbye, probably something along the lines of 'We thank you for the meeting'. (In German it's 'Wir danken für die Begegnung' but I couldn't find a decent English translation on the Internet. So if anyone here is good with Elvish, help would be greatly appreciated.)**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, faved, followed and read the story. I'm glad you guys are enjoying it! And the story got over 200 views and about 100 visitors in ten days. Holy crap o.o**

**Stormrunner74: Thank you! The high five is on my list and the other point kind of got touched on in this chapter. I hope you like this chapter as well!**

**Summerflower13: I'm glad you like the humor :D**

**Freia72:****Thank you! Oh, nice :D I'm glad you like it. Haha, that's good. Orcs seem to always ruin the mood. These bastards.**


	5. The Council of Elrond

**Chapter 4: The Council of Elrond**

For a moment I just stare at Boromir's back in disbelieve. What the hell, man? I had hoped that he'd forgotten about my bullshit back story, but obviously not. Damn you, Boromir. I just shake my head with a sigh and follow him inside. Looks like I'll somehow have to bullshit my way through this. Again.

The great hall where the feast is supposed to be is on the left. The great wooden door is open and reveals a room full of chatting people. They are sitting on long tables and most of them seem to be elves from Elrond's household, but I can also see two dwarfs and a few hobbits scattered about. The feast hasn't started yet, as there are still a few empty chairs on Elrond's table. Sebastian is sitting next to the hobbits and seems to be engaged in a conversation. I quickly walk over to his table and slide in a chair next to him with a "Hey, guys!". Boromir takes a seat opposite of me. Sebastian greets us with a nod, before refocusing his attention on the hobbits, who are obviously telling him a story.

They must be Merry, Pippin and Sam. Awesome! All of them have curly hair in different shades of brown and friendly faces. All in all they look like adults who have been shrinked down to about one meter, except for their hairy feet. But those are hidden beneath the table at the moment. Figuring out who Sam is, is rather easy. He is a bit broader built than the other two and his clothes look slightly less expensive. But Merry and Pippin? No idea.

It's really weird... People here are sharing some similarities with the characters in the movies, but there are lots of differences as well. The real Boromir, for example, really has gray eyes like in the books.

There is still no trace of the missing guests, so I resume my game of let's-identify-the-awesome-guys. The dwarfs, seated at the table in the middle, must be Gimli and Glóin. Figuring out who Gimli is, is pretty easy. His father is sporting a braided white beard and looks... ancient. Gimli's probably the younger one, a guy with auburn hair and beard. Finding Legolas turns out to be nearly impossible between all these elves.

I can, however, identify Elrond. He is sitting at the head of the middle table on a decorated chair. Dark-haired, with a thin silver circlet on his head, dressed in expensive looking robes and stern eyes. This guy basically radiates power and wisdom. Arwen is sitting on the same table, but with her back turned to me. She has the same dark hair and is wearing a beautiful white dress. Aragorn is nowhere to be seen and the same goes for Gandalf, Bilbo and Frodo. I wonder when they'll show up.

When I turn my attention back to the people at hand, Boromir is watching the hobbits with an expression of complete awe and confusion. I have to suppress a grin because his face looks rather funny. The hobbits finish their story just in time to see two people enter the hall. One of them seems to be human, with a long, gray beard, equally long hair and clad in gray robes. A silvery, glittering scarf is showing under his messy beard. That has to be Gandalf. The other one is a hobbit with naked, woolly feet and curly, dark hair. He looks pale and nervous. Silence descends onto us until they have reached their respective seats – Gandalf next to Elrond and Frodo next to Glóin.

Lord Elrond rises from his chair and says a few words in Elvish, before switching to Common. Luckily he refrains from delivering a super long speech and just welcomes all of us in Rivendell, before sitting down again. The food is brought soon after. Once the hobbits are preoccupied with eating, Sebastian finally gets the chance to introduce us. Pippin turns out to be the slightly smaller hobbit with a mischievous look in his eyes and a broad smile on his face. Merry seems to be a bit calmer, but his eyes sparkle with intelligence.

The hobbits are kind of silent, maybe because they are bit intimidated by all the Big Folk and focus more on their food, resulting in Sebastian and me idly chatting about the weather during our journey to Rivendell. Boromir keeps glancing around the room and looks rather tense to me. It's obvious that he isn't trusting the elves much. The amount of mistrust here is just sad. We're supposed to be allies after all. And if we can't trust each other, who else is there we can trust?

"So, how did you get to know the Lady?", Pippin finally chimes in. He is shooting me curious glances while munching on a bite of apple pie. Now, at dessert, the hobbits seem to be stuffed enough to turn their attention away from the food stacked in front of them.

After a moment of consideration and getting kicked by Sebastian under the table, I start talking. "We have been traveling together from Rohan until we got separated during an orc ambush." In the corner of my eye I can see Boromir giving me the are-you-fucking-serious look, but he doesn't say anything, which I am grateful for. "Oh, and I kind of broke and lost your sword. Sorry, man." Sebastian just waves it off.

"An orc ambush?", Merry asks. His voice is a weird mix of curiosity and fear.

"Yes." Sebastian nods at him. "We believe it's the same orcs that attacked us." The hobbits exchanged nervous glances, but Sebastian forces a smile. "Don't worry. Rivendell is save and all of them should be dead by now." After that I give a quick description of the attack, without mentioning the LARP, of course. Sebastian doesn't talk much and lets me handle building our background story. Luckily he doesn't freak out this time around, though.

Boromir is up next and tells us about some of the places he saw and the people he met during his journey to Rivendell. He ends up giving a pretty detailed description of Minas Tirith, leaving the hobbits open-mouthed and in complete awe. The White City has always been one of my favorite places in Middle Earth and hearing someone talk about it like this is kind of surreal and extremely awesome at the same time. Okay, the whole situation is extremely surreal and awesome.

When it's the hobbits' turn to tell us about their home, they are a bit reluctant. Maybe because our stories intimidated them. But after some begging on our part Pippin tells us about Tom Bombadil and finally about Bilbo's legendary birthday party. Merry and Sam chime in now and then to add details or their version of the events. It's really detailed and in the end I feel like I know every single guest by name and how they are related to everyone else. Ah, well. Hobbits.

It's an interesting, funny and lighthearted conversation. The hobbits are awesome to talk to, at least as long as they don't start rambling about family trees or pipe weed (Luckily Sebastian managed to stop them before they could start off a full length lecture about the stuff). Half an hour later everybody is done eating and the hall is filled with the sound of quietly chatting people.

Elrond rises from his chair again, prompting everyone to fall silent and turn to face the elf Lord. I watch in confusion as Elrond leaves the table and makes his way towards the door. The elves seem to know what to do and follow him. Oh, right. There is still the part in the Hall of Fire left. Nice.

We follow Elrond through the Entrance Hall and into the Hall of Fire. I had stumbled upon it earlier while exploring Rivendell, but hadn't been able to see much in the dim light, so I take a quick look around. The room is dark, its only sources of light being a fire in the middle and a few lanterns scattered about. The high ceiling is resting on delicately carved and darkened wooden pillars and cushioned seats and pillows are laid out around the room. Faint music is playing from somewhere in the shadows.

The hobbits take off into different directions as soon as we enter the hall, probably to find Frodo and Bilbo or to annoy someone. Sebastian, Boromir and I are left standing around awkwardly. I take a deep breath. Okay, let's do this. And let's hope this isn't the worst idea of the Third Age. With an "If you'd excuse us, there is something we got to talk about" to Sebastian I grab Boromir's arm and drag the surprised Gondorian off into a secluded corner, as far away from any eavesdroppers as possible.

I settle into a big, comfortable chair and wait for Boromir to sit down opposite of me, before adressing him: "Alright. Now, please, tell me why you think I'm lying." Okay. I really hope this works like I hope it does. It's hard to read the guy's face in the dim light, but I'm sure he has put on a serious expression and is watching me carefully as I speak.

"It is fairly obvious." Boromir shoots me an apologetic glance but continues nonetheless. "Your manner of speaking and your accent are different from any I have heard so far. And I have spent much time in the company of men of Rohan. You are also unaware to many of our customs and your friend, Sebastian, is even worse at adapting his speech. The armor you wore when we first met is another point. It's design is different from any I have seen. And quite ineffective, to be honest." Okay, these are good points... There is no point denying that he is on to me and pulling another shitty cover-story form my arse probably won't cut it this time.

Let's hope my impression of his character isn't completely off. Here goes nothing. "First off, you're right." With a sigh I try to come up with a half-decent, physics-free explanation for this whole mess. Not that I got any way of knowing if I'm right. I really suck at explaining this kind of stuff, as my little sister could probably tell you. And explaining wormholes and alternative universes to a guy with the physics knowledge of a third-grader might get a bit complicated... Now I know how Solaire feels before giving his epic multiplayer tutorial speech. Maybe I should just quote him... Minus the jolly coop bit. "Can you do me a favor and not spread the stuff I'm gonna talk about around?" Boromir thinks about that for a second, before he solemnly nods. "Okay... alright. I'm not from... here. Here being Middle Earth. Explaining this is gonna suck..."

Boromir chimes in before I can continue. "Are you from Númenor?"

I just stare at him for a second. That's about the last theory I would've expected anyone to come up with. "What? No. Nonsense. That would be easy to explain, no? And Númenor sunk ages ago, if I'm not mistaken. Uhm... Anyway, can you imagine that other worlds exist alongside this one? Mine for example is similar to this one in some points and completely different in others. We don't have any hobbits or elves or dwarfs. Only hu... men. Alright?"

Boromir looks slightly confused, but nods. He seems to at least get the basic concept of what I'm trying to tell him.

"Good. Until a few days ago people in my world didn't know that these other worlds even existed. Some... scholars suspected it but they couldn't prove it. Anyway. I was going somewhere with a few friends, when a bunch of orcs attacked us from out of nowhere. We were unarmed because stuff like that simply doesn't happen in my world – heck, we don't even have orcs! You already know what happened during the attack so I'm just gonna skip that part. In the end at least some of my friends and some of the orcs ended up here. I've no idea where they are or how many of them got here... But you already know Sebastian." I trail off and wait for Boromir's reaction. I recon this is a better way of explaining stuff than going the 'yeah, you guys are all characters in a book and I know everything about you. Oh, and you get brainwashed and die in the end' route. Thinking about that scene makes me cringe. I never thought Boromir deserved to die in the story, but the person I got to know during the last few days is way too nice to pull that move at Amon Hen. But it has to happen, I guess. And I sure as hell don't want to be anywhere near it to watch it.

The silence drags on for maybe another minute, before Boromir starts talking again, effectively derailing my train of thought. "This is the strangest tale I have ever heard. Do you truly expect me to believe it?"

I just shrug. It's not like I got a soapstone in my pocket to prove it, if need be. "It's the truth. Plus it explains all of the things you pointed out rather nicely." I could have pulled out a Sherlock Holmes quote, but that would have made the whole thing even weirder.

"That... is true. Why do you not return to your realm?"

That's probably a fair question. "Well... I've no clue how traveling between 'realms' works. Not even our wisest scholars know that. As I said, until a few days ago nobody even knew that stuff like this is possible." Holy shit, this whole situation reminds me way too much of the _Thor_ movie. Sadly I don't have a Heimdall to teleport me back to Earth. We don't have to deal with a Destroyer either... oh, wait, we got Sauron, orcs on Earth and a bunch of people with the potential to fuck up canon running around in Middle Earth. That's _so_ much better...

"You seem to know a lot about Middle Earth." Boromir says this very matter of fact-ly, but I can't help but notice the faint hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Yeah, well, our worlds have a lot of similarities. Plus the orcs weren't exactly silent." They weren't exactly silent when cracking yo mama jokes, but Boromir doesn't have to know about that kind of stuff. I don't want to be the person to compromise the dude's innocence. There is also no way in hell I'm telling him about _the Lord of the Rings_. The whole thing is risky enough as it is already. Telling people I know stuff is only going to make this more awkward and dangerous for everyone.

"I understand." Boromir seems to be a bit more convinced this time, but the hint of suspicion is still there. Not that I'm surprised. My story _is_ pretty fucked up, after all. And Boromir isn't the most trusting person from what I've seen. We did get along alright on the way here, but seeing how the dude has a sword and I was unarmed, I can see why he didn't worry too much.

"'Tis a strange idea. A world inhabited by none but men... yet you did not seem surprised at the sight of halflings."

Oh, _come on_. What is this? A freaking police investigation? I try my best to put on a confused expression. "Halflings? I thought they're midgets." Now it's Boromirs turn to look confused. "You know? Like small men?" Let's hope there are midgets in Middle Earth... Good thing I did look kind of confused when we encountered the elven guards, so he can't really grill me about that one.

Boromir seems to be satisfied and we lapse into silence. I listen to the music that's still playing from the shadow and notice that it's the song of Eärendil Bilbo wrote. When I glance over to the fire, an old, white haired hobbit is standing on a stool singing. So that's Bilbo. A bunch of elves has gathered around him. There is also a guy dressed in what appears to be ringmail with a green stone on it. Tall, dark haired, green stone... that's Aragorn alright. And Arwen's with him. I didn't think I'd ever say that about a couple, but these two actually look really cute together.

I turn back to Boromir once Bilbo is done singing. "So I told you the truth. What about your side of the bargain?"

"I shall keep it. But let me bid you goodnight for now. You have given me a lot to contemplate." No shit. I probably just fucked up his whole conception of the world. With that he rises from his chair and bows slightly. Man, it's so weird how polite this guy is.

"Alright. Good night, then." I smile back politely and watch as Boromir leaves the Hall of Fire. Well, that was the weirdest conversation I've had in a while. And trust me, I've taken part in some messed up conversations. What worries me is that Boromir kind of knows about my origins now. It should be fine. Really, it should be. Unless my judgment is totally off, he's not going to run around and tell people about this – and this is Middle Earth, not Westeros, so chances are good that I'm right. I'm still not sure if it was the wisest thing to do. But now it's too late for that. I'll have to wait and see how all of this plays out.

I stay and listen to the music for a while, until I'm about to nod off in my chair. At that point I decide that it's probably better to go to bed. Back in my room I notice that the elves have cleaned and repaired my clothing. Sweet. The ringmail they left for me looks sturdier than mine, but is about the same weight. Maybe it's some kind of elf steel? Who knows.

In the next morning I'm up early. After getting cleaned and putting on a dress once again – I thought about simply wearing my stuff, but the council is serious business with important people attending it, so cloth pants, a t-shirt and a leather shirt probably won't cut it – make my way down to the great hall to grab some breakfast.

There's a lot of elves scattered about when I arrive. After scanning the crowded tables for a moment I realize that there is no one around I know. To be honest, the elves kind of intimidate me. They are beautiful, wise and old as fuck, so yeah. I end up sitting down next to Gimli and Glóin, who have kept some distance to the elves themselves.

They notice me as soon as I sit down, so I offer a small smile. "Uhm, hello."

The older dwarf, Glóin, gets up immediately and bows. He's a stocky, little guy with a friendly and kind of old looking face. But I'm not even one head taller than him. Wow, that's actually kind of sad. "Glóin, son of Gróin, at your service." Holy crap, the guy's dad's name really is _Groin_?

Gimli follows suit, standing up and bowing, like his dad did a second ago. He looks younger and is about the same height. "Gimli, son of Glóin, at your service."

Offering them a hand and saying 'Hi, I'm Laura' seems kind of wrong to me, so I stand up as well and try a bow. "Laura, daughter of Peter, at your service." We all sit down again and I notice that Gimli seems to be biting back a chuckle. Glóin seems to be amused too, but I'm not sure why. Wait... I should probably have done that curtsy-thing. Shit, I got no idea how that works. If I'll be hanging out in Middle Earth for some more time, I'll probably have to ask Boromir about it later. The dude seems to know his way around this kind of stuff.

I eat mostly in silence while listening to the dwarfs' conversation. It's quite interesting, to be honest, even though most of it is gossip from the Lonely Mountain. I have no clue who half of the people they are talking about are, but at the moment I'm comfortable with just listening to them. Plus watching people might get me some insight on how to act Middle Earth-y.

When the bell rings, we are all done eating and get up immediately. Luckily the dwarfs know how to get to the eastern porch where the council is supposed to take place. Because I have no clue how to get there I simply follow them.

When we arrive, most people are already there and only the Hobbits and Gandalf are still missing. I sit down in a free chair between Boromir and some elf I don't recognize. Everyone is silent and it's an uncomfortable and awkward silence. To me it feels like none of the guys sitting here actually want to be here.

I look around and try to identify everyone. There's of course the dwarfs, Boromir and Aragorn, who's sitting in a corner and is wearing his ranger grab. He looks rather tense, but has put on a bored expression. Then there's Elrond, whose forehead isn't as big in real life as it's in the movies. At least I won't be tempted to call him Mr. Smith this way. But having Mr. Smith in one room with Ned Stark, Magneto, that dude from Hidalgo, a penguin and Will Turner would make for an interesting fanfiction. Anyway, back to topic. Elrond looks stern and controlled how I'd imagine a ruler to look.

Finding Legolas is easier than I had expected. He's dressed in green and brown and looks kind of less lord-like than the Rivendell elves in their shiny, long robes. He looks friendly enough and is currently glancing around the porch warily. He also looks way younger than for example Elrond, but that's kind of hard to tell when you deal with immortal people.

Talking about Rivendell elves, there are some elves around I don't recognize. They must be Elrond's advisers or something. I'm not sure, who they are, but once this show gets on the road, Elrond will probably introduce them.

Frodo, Bilbo and Gandalf show up a few minutes later and take their seats. From the corner of my eye I notice Sam, who has sat down on the floor behind Frodo. No one seems to notice him or care about him being there in the first place, so I simply smile at him, before turning my attention to Elrond. I wonder if Merry and Pippin are here too and if this is going to follow the movies or the books.

Elrond rises from his chair and takes a long, calculating glance at everyone sitting on the porch. After a few introductory words he quickly introduces everyone. I end up as Laura of Rohan, which is totally fine with me. The elves I didn't recognize are Glorfindel and Erestor from Elrond's house and Galdor of the Grey Havens. There are a few others too, but I can't remember their names. The whole thing reminds me of these cliched self-help groups.

_'Hi, I'm __Elrond and I'm an alcoholic__.'_

_'Hello __Elrond__!'_

Something like that. The council starts out with a lot of talk about Sauron's movements in the far east and the south. I can't really help much with that, because I have no clue where most of the places everyone talks about are. I haven't even heard of about half of them! And at home I always thought, I was good at Middle Earth geography... Most of the news are new to me too, so I just sit there and listen. It gets interesting when the dwarfs start talking about how Sauron sent a messenger to the Lonely Mountain to trade his dwarf rings for information on Bilbo. They also mention the try to retake Moria, but no one knows what happened to the colonists that entered the mines. Well, I do, but I won't spoil it. And that's why I only listen to that part with half an ear.

It's just so weird to sit here with all these important people who obviously believe that I'm one of them. I feel out of place and nervous, because I'll have to talk to them at some point. Speaking in front of people has never been one of my strong points and this is kind of even worse than presenting stuff to my classmates back home was... God fucking damn it.

The moment when it starts to become interesting is, when Elrond begins to tell us the story of the One Ring. I know it, of course, but it's still interesting how the elf Lord manages to include so many details. He begins with Celebrimbor creating Rings of Power and explains how Sauron betrayed him. Somehow he manages to give us a history lecture on two ages of Middle Earth without boring everyone to death. And I even learned new things, because most of the details Elrond mentioned never appear in the books.

Elrond tells us about the last alliance while the morning slowly fades. Sauron is defeated and Isildur takes the Ring. It is brought to Gondor, where Isildur writes a scroll about it. Gandalf even takes the time to quote said scroll word by word, probably just because he can. Soon after Isildur's men get ambushed at the shores of Anduin and he dies, loosing the Ring in the riverbed. Elrond continues with the fall of Arnor and the fate of the heirs of Anarion. When he finally finishes this part of the Ring's story, Boromir gets up from his chair and starts talking.

His tale is way shorter, but way darker then Elrond's. Not to mention how it's way more up to date. The Nazgûl have returned to Minas Morgul and orcs are banding together on the east side of Anduin. It's kind of old news, to be honest, but everyone is still appropriately shocked about it. Wow, now I'm looking forward to their faces when they hear about Saruman's treason.

Anyway, Boromir recites the riddle Faramir and he had heard in their psychic dream:

_Seek the sword that was broken:_

_In Imladris it dwells;_

_There shall be counsels taken_

_Stronger than Morgul spells._

_There shall be shown a token_

_that doom is close at hand,_

_For Isildur's Bane shall waken,_

_And the Halfling forth shall stand._

As soon as Boromir finishes his riddle, Aragorn gets up and throws his sword on the table without a word. At the same time Gandalf mutters something to Frodo, prompting the hobbit to stand up and hold up the Ring. Well, that's one person's problems solved. But of course a short discussion on Aragorn's background ensures and in the end the ranger agrees to go to Minas Tirith and help against the forces of Mordor.

After all that is done, it's Bilbo's turn to tell us his part of the Ring's story and the little guy enjoys it to the fullest. He even quotes every single riddle from his game versus Gollum! If I hadn't already bought _The Hobbit _at home, I'd sure as hell do it now. Bilbo finishes his tale with a recount of the legendary birthday party, but gets kind of stifled by Gandalf: After a rather loud cough from the wizard, Bilbo quickly skips to the part where he gives the Ring to Frodo.

Frodo doesn't seem too happy when Elrond asks him to talk about his adventures, but complies nonetheless. It's not as detailed and way more hesitant than Bilbo's report, but it's still interesting to hear the whole story from Frodo himself. Plus this one kind of differs from canon. He mentions picking up Sebastian near Weathertop and getting attacked by orcs near the ford. When he finishes, a relieved expression spreads on his face. Wow, looks like I'm not the only one here who hates public speaking. While everyone starts asking questions and discussing the issue of the Black Riders – it looks like they haven't found all of the horses at the ford – I just sit there and wait.

Galdor, the elf from the Grey Havens finally asks how Gandalf knows that Frodo's Ring is the One and where Saruman is. That's a fair question, because the guy knows a ton about Ring lore. Well, it looks like that's my cue.

"Uhm, I can help you with that," I chime in. No one seems to have a problem with me speaking up, so I continue nervously. "Saruman seems to have fallen to evil. From what we know he is preparing Isengard for open war. His Uruks have been attacking settlements in Rohan for a while now, but nothing has been done about it, because he has spies and allies everywhere. The king was not himself anymore, when I left for Rivendell."

When I take another look around the council, shock has crept onto most of their faces. Elrond, Gandalf, Aragorn and Frodo seem to be the only ones who were not taken by surprise by the news, but that's probably because Gandalf told them about his little adventure on the spire of Orthanc. Yeah, that's it. My job here is done. Roll credits, please.

Before anyone else can comment on that, Gandalf starts talking and confirms my story by telling his tale. After that he tells us about Gollum, who found the Ring in the river Anduin about 500 years ago and how Aragorn helped with capturing the little bastard. When he starts talking about the last test he did in Bag End, people look nearly as shocked as after the Saruman revelation. Maybe they had hoped that Gandalf was wrong and they were safe after all, but now that hope got crushed.

And having Gandalf quote the Black Speech in the middle of Rivendell doesn't help either. It's really creepy, when he does it. I thought they'd exaggerated in the book and in the movie when it's said that the sky turns dark for a moment when Gandalf quotes it, but it's not. The sun seems to dim down for a short moment and the temperature on the porch drops about ten degrees. Or at least that's what it feels like. I can't say if that really is the power of the Black Speech or if Gandalf just trolled us with some of his magic. It's just plain creepy in the end.

And judging from the freaked out looks all around I'm not the only one thinking that. Elrond glares daggers at the Istar, who just shrugs it off with one of his super positive comments. Yay, grumpy wizards for the win!

Legolas tells us that Gollum managed to flee from his prison in Mirkwood, which sparks another series 'oh crap' expressions, but at this point the overwhelming majority agrees that we have bigger problems than that little fucker.

And with that the real council starts. To me it's kind of boring, because I already know the outcome. So I just sit there and listen while the weirdest ideas are brought forth. Boromir wants to take the Ring to Gondor but gets howled down by everyone else, an elf wants to have Tom Bombadil guard it, while someone else suggests to send it across the sea to Valinor and yet another guy wants to throw it back into the Anduin. Well, at least they are creative... I think about mentioning the catapult idea from the internet, but refrain from doing so in the end.

But all of these super epic plans have their weaknesses and in the end there is only one choice anyway: grilling the little fucker in Mordor.

After way more back and forth than necessary the council finally decides that destroying is indeed the only half-decent solution to the problem. Now there is only one question left for us to answer: Who will do it?

Inside the house the bell rings for lunch, but no one moves. I'm looking to the side and try to avoid eye contact, afraid that someone might think I was volunteering for the quest. I could do it, if I wanted to, but it's Frodo's job. And seeing how the quest goes in the real story I'd probably die before even making it to Lórien. So... no.

After what feels like an eternity Frodo stands up. "I will take the Ring, even though I do not know the way," the hobbit says. Everyone stares at him in surprise and with deep respect and in some cases, relief in their eyes. And it's well deserved, too. Frodo doesn't know it yet, but the task he just got himself deserves a ton of respect from everyone here. Right now the hobbit simply turns as red as a tomato and quickly sits back down.

**So So Something: Thanks, mate! I hope you enjoyed this chap too :)**

**TheParanoidGraveRobber:**** Haha, yeah. Sean Bean jokes are the best, lol**

**Thanks to all reviewers, everyone who faved or followed, and of course everyone who is just reading it **


	6. Elrond's brilliant Plan

**Chapter 5: Elrond's brilliant plan**

When I arrive at the Great Hall ten minutes later, Sebastian, Merry and Pippin are already there and wave me over to their table. I sit down next to them and proceed to pile some food on my plate. Listening to a bunch of dudes talking about the destruction of the world for hours on end can make you really hungry. "So," Sebastian asks with an excited gleam in his eyes. "How'd it go?"

"Yeah! And where are Frodo and Sam?," Pippin chimes in, before grabbing another apple and shuffling closer to us. He looks even more excited than Sebastian.

"Pretty good, I guess." I shrug and have to bite back a grin. "Frodo and Sam are still at the porch, but they should show up here any moment now. They were talking to Gandalf when I left." Just then the doors open and Boromir walks in, followed by the missing hobbits. He looks around the room, probably in search of an empty table. I wave at him and he moves over to sit with us, a slight frown on his face and the hobbits in tow.

Hm? I wonder what's wrong. Maybe it's because of the Ring or that little discussion with Aragorn earlier? While I'm still wondering about that, Frodo, Sam and Bilbo have taken their seats at the table and start telling the other hobbits about the outcome of the council. Merry and Pippin seem to be a bit confused about all of the details. Not surprising, seeing how even I with my crapton of knowledge haven't heard about some of the stuff.

Once lunch is done Boromir turns his attention to me. "Do you own a sword?" I just shake my head, taken by surprise. "I shall fetch one for you then. And you might wish to dress... differently." Ohh, looks like I'll finally get my lessons! Sweet. And I'm still wearing that damned dress. Fighting in that doesn't seem to be the best idea, considering I'm having trouble to not trip over the hem while walking normally. If I'd try to fight in it, the dress would probably take me down before Boromir can even lift his sword.

The five hobbits leave to do... whatever hobbits do in Rivendell. They'll probably spend the day discussing what was said at the council or something. Sebastian is getting ready to leave, too, as it seems. Might as well wait for him then.

The three of us leave the great hall together a few minutes later. Once we pass the high, wooden doors, Sebastian says: "See you later, guys." And with that he takes off towards the Hall of Fire. Okay then... looks like he has stuff to do.

"Meet me at the eastern porch in ten minutes." Boromir doesn't look particularly happy about having to teach me, but manages to conceal that fact pretty well. If I hadn't been on the road with him for the last weeks, I probably wouldn't even have noticed the slight note of displeasure in his voice.

"Alright. Thanks!" I flash him a cheerful grin. While Boromir leaves to grab a sword for me, I hurry to my room and put on my travel clothes, and after thinking for a moment, the ringmail too. I doubt that we'll be training with real swords, but better safe than sorry. The elvish ringmail is indeed way lighter than my old one, which is really nice. I put on the arm-guards and greaves as well. I'm not sure if they'll do any good against steel swords, after all they're designed to protect against foam weapons. But it's better than nothing, I guess. Sadly the polished steel of my armor plates looks really out of place here, because most other people are wearing either leather gear or less shiny metal stuff. That's probably what Boromir was referring to when he commented on my equip.

When I arrive at the porch a few minutes later, Boromir is already waiting. He's standing there with arms crossed and a serious (and slightly annoyed) look on his face. A bunch of swords is on the ground next to him. They're all different lengths and shapes plus most of them look rather old. Boromir himself has a sword on his belt that doesn't look like the one he's been carrying on the way to Rivendell. He waves me over once he notices me. "There you are."

Boromir sizes me up, before picking up one of the swords and handing it to me, hilt first. I grab it carefully. It's not as heavy as I expected and obviously dull. Good. I was a bit afraid he'd show up with sharp weapons or something. To be cut to ribbons during the tutorial isn't high on my priority list, to be honest. Boromir's frown deepens. "Swing it," he says. I swing the sword a bit reluctantly, but Boromir shakes his head and stops me. "No, try this one."

The whole thing kind of reminds me of the scene where Harry Potter gets his wand – only without the cool effects when he waves the wrong wand. I'm not exactly sure what Boromir wants to see, but he seems to know what he's doing, so I keep swinging different swords while feeling increasingly awkward. After the fifth or so blade he finally nods. "This one might work. Come on."

The blade does feel better balanced than the others and it's light enough for me to handle it with one hand. At least for a short time. Well, that's good, I guess? Boromir leaves the porch and positions in what seems to be a fighting stance. I take positions opposite of him in what I remember of the fighting stance various video games used. Still frowning, Boromir addresses me. "Attack me." He sounds a bit... bored? Annoyed? I'm not sure. Let's hope he's not getting brainwashed already. That would really suck.

Better to not argue with him. I take a step forward and launch an attack on Boromir's shoulder. He blocks it with ease. After some more swings he stops me and asks me to block his strikes. His attacks come in super slow-mo, so I can block them easily. Finally Boromir pauses and thinks for a moment, probably to analyze what he just saw. Wow, hopefully I didn't mess up too badly. That'd be kind of embarrassing.

"That was quite good... For a lady." I'm not quite sure if I should take that as a compliment or be offended by the sexist part of it. Ah, well. Better stick with the compliment. Boromir proceeds to launch into a _huge_ explanation on all kinds of basics. Really, he talks for like half an hour straight. He starts with a ton of technical terms, the stance, basic attacks, blocks and a bunch of other stuff. It's hard to remember all of it once we get back to practicing – and at some parts even harder to use the advice Boromir is giving, but I'm doing my best.

When we stop, I feel like I can barely lift the sword off the ground, plus I'm drenched in sweat. The whole lesson was way more intense and exhausting then I'd expected. Looks like I'll have a huge ass muscle hangover tomorrow... But what can you do? In all these movies the characters get like one lesson ever and beat up everyone else after that. That however is plain wrong. During the whole training I didn't manage to hit Boromir even _once_. It's not like I thought I'd be super awesome after one lesson... But not a single hit? That's kind of sad, if you ask me.

And so my stay in Rivendell begins. Most of it isn't noteworthy, but it takes me a while to get used to all of this. No running water, no internet, no electricity... It's really weird during the first weeks and it takes me quite some time to get over the fact that I'm stuck in a kind of medieval world.

The pain of leaving my home and everyone but Sebastian behind kind of dulls after a few weeks. But I don't think much about it, to be honest. Mostly because it hurts or because I'm busy with other stuff. Sebastian seems to get over it a bit faster, but his encounter with the Black Riders has left it's marks on him. Poor guy still gets super nervous super fast and looks like he expects an orc behind every corner. Once he nearly punched out Pippin when the hobbit startled him by accident. It'll probably take months until he is back to his old self... If it ever happens, that is.

After a week or so I begin to fall into a routine. Most of my mornings are spent in the library, reading about the legends and history of the world I'm stuck in. I did read the _Silmarilion_ back home, but it has been a while and I figured that the texts Elrond has might be more accurate. Plus it's really interesting. And considering the chances of ever getting to finish reading _a Song of Ice and Fire_ here are kind of slim, I might as well read these.

My training with Boromir continues during the afternoons in the park behind the main house. I improve a ton during that time. Not enough to take on Boromir, let alone Aragorn, but enough to survive longer than ten seconds, as Boromir put it at some point. By the way, the guy has cheered up quite a bit since we got here. His initial annoyance about having to teach me is almost gone and the same goes for his mistrust towards the other races. He is still careful, of course, but it's way less obvious than in the beginning. Or maybe he got better at hiding it? I can't tell.

I ended up spending the most time with Sebastian and Boromir, and through them with the hobbits. And the little guys are awesome. They are fun to be around, laugh a lot and know way more jokes than anyone I've ever talked to. At some point I taught them The Game (which you just lost, by the way), but regretted it two days later when one of Elrond's sons during dinner announced he had lost said Game. When half a dozen other people around the hall groaned or announced their loss too, I really began to doubt the wisdom behind teaching it to those two.

My contact to the other members of the future fellowship wasn't as deep. We saw each other at the meals and talked a bit, but most of it was just polite smalltalk and an occasional Hi/Bye.

I taught Boromir how to high five and what a Bro Fist is in exchange for a lesson in curtsying at some point. It was kind of funny to watch the guy do a perfect curtsy, but that's probably just because I can be a special kind of immature at times. Anyway, turns out the Gondorian equivalent to a high five is a weird medieval underarm-clasp-thingy you sometimes see in movies.

Time in Rivendell passes in a strange way, just like Bilbo says. On the one side it seems to crawl at an incredibly slow pace, on the other side it races past you. But it didn't really matter to me anyway. I felt like staying in Rivendell for ever. The threat of the Ring is hanging above our heads and I _know_ that even this place isn't save, but all of that seems so unreal and far away when you are in a place like Imladris. The Fellowship would have to leave at some point but at the moment I hoped they'd just stay.

But the reminder of all the dangers lying ahead comes nearly two months after my arrival in Rivendell. It's maybe an hour after breakfast and I'm sitting in the library, reading an old book about the destruction of Númenor. It's really interesting, but the author has the worst handwriting I have ever seen. Really. Deciphering some of the text passages takes freaking ages!

I look up and turn around when I hear soft footsteps approach behind me. The person standing there surprises me quite a bit. It's Lord Elrond in the flesh. The elf's hands are clasped behind his back and right now he's giving me a slight smile. I quickly rise from my chair and curtsy clumsily. "Uhm, good morning, Lord Elrond."

It's weird. I haven't talked to the guy in weeks and only saw him at the meals, so why would he show up here? Did he find out about my origin? I try to hide the fact that that thought is making me super nervous, but the elf seems to have picked up on that already. "Do not worry, for I only wish to speak with you." He gestures at the chair across from me. "May I sit with you?"

"Yeah, of course." I sit down again, while Elrond takes his seat on the opposite side of the table. He smooths down his long robe, before resting his hands in the wooden table. I close my book and push it to the side, before turning my full attention to the lord in front of me.

Elrond takes a look at the title. "An interesting piece of literature," he comments with a smile. "And most likely important to understand the full consequences of the darkness lying ahead." Wow, what is with people here? Cheer the fuck up. It's not like we still got a good chance to kick Sauron's ass. Elrond pauses before turning to me again, his smile now replaced with a dead serious look. "And this is what I wish to talk to you about."

Okay, that doesn't exactly sound like he has found out about my background. Good. But what else could he possibly want to talk about? Wait. He can't possibly... Nah, that'd be stupid and fucking cliché. "Alright. What is it?"

"The Fellowship will have to leave Rivendell soon and I would like to send one of your people with them." Are you fucking kidding me? "Your companion however wishes to remain here for the time being. He did however say that you might be a good choice. Not my first choice, but Sebastian seems to hold you in high regard." I repeat: Are you. Fucking. Kidding me.

Okay, so he's really asking me. At this point I'm not sure if I should be happy, after all going with the Fellowship is every nerd's dream, or run away screaming. Chances of not making it back alive are quite high after all, so the second idea sounds quite appealing.

I just stare at Elrond for a few seconds in disbelief. The guy can't be fucking serious. Really, he can't be. The shocked silence prompts the elf Lord to keep talking. "It is a dangerous mission and you should think about this very carefully before deciding. I will not lie to you: if you choose to go, you might not return." No shit, Sherlock. "There will be a council meeting in the Hall of Fire in about an hour. There it shall be decided who will accompany Frodo on his quest. I do not mean to rush you, but making your decision beforehand would most likely be for the best."

I just nod mechanically. So he wants my decision in an hour. Great. No fucking pressure, mate. "Right... I'll be there."

"Just know that you are welcome to stay in Rivendell, if you wish to do so." The elf Lord smiles at me again before rising from his chair.

I do the same. "Thank you, my lord. I will consider it."

Once Elrond is gone, I sink back into the chair. What was that all about? Sure, it makes sense to include someone from 'Rohan' in the Fellowship, if someone is available. But it still surprises me that Elrond even bothered to ask me. It seems kind of... Desperate. Sebastian's background says he is a Rohirric warrior and he has a tiny bit of experience with fencing in real life, so it doesn't come as a surprise that Elrond asked to him.

And after the stuff Sebastian told me, I'm not surprised he'd say no either. But asking me? Considering this is freaking Middle Earth makes that seem very weird. But none of that makes the decision any easier. Let's see... I could mess up the plot, causing evil to win or people to die. Or I could die. All of that sounds really fucking unpleasant.

On the other hand, going with the Fellowship is about every nerd's or teenage girl's dream. I read the books, watched the movies a gazillion times, played a ton of LotR games... I know the plot and all of its twists, so I should be able to avoid any dangerous situations, right? Meaning I can get out of the way when important stuff is about to happen and the plot should go as it's supposed to. My lessons with Boromir are going fine too, so running into an orc doesn't spell instant doom for me anymore. As long as the orc is as bad with a sword as Stormtroopers are with their guns.

And then it hits me: If I get lucky, I might be able to find a way back home! Or at least an explanation for what's going on here. Fuck orcs, fuck Balrogs... I'm gonna find a way back to Earth. Maybe Galadriel knows something. Don't get me wrong. Of course it's awesome to be in Middle Earth and to meet all these people, but I'm still missing my family and my home.

With still an hour to go until the meeting starts, I flip open the book once more. It's really interesting and all, but thanks to Elrond's little revelation my concentration is gone. After reading the same paragraph for the fifth time without paying any attention to its content I finally give up. I place the book back on its shelf with a sigh and leave the library.

Five minutes later I walk into the Hall of Fire. It's still at least half an our to go and the dimly lit room is nearly empty. A few elves are chilling by the fire and talk in low voices and somewhere a musician is playing a quiet song, but that's about it.

Still musing about Elrond's offer to join the Fellowship I sit down in a dark corner and wait for everyone else. I kind of want to do this. Not only because of the chance to return home, but because most of the people I know and like in Middle Earth will be going. And because I want to actually help defeat Sauron. If that guy or Saruman is behind the orc attack, they deserve to have their ass kicked for it. They deserve it anyway, but the attack would make them deserve it even more, especially if the person to help kick their ass is one of the survivors.

I was never big on revenge, mind you, mostly because I'm too lazy to hold a grudge against people for long, but all of this... It's making it really hard to not be angry at someone. Plus Elrond seems to think that I could help the Fellowship. And the guy has the gift of foresight, right? So maybe I have a job to do in Middle Earth? Like the girls in these super corny Legomances.

Holy crap, if it turns out I'm involved in a super secret elvish prophecy or some shit, I swear I'm gonna barf on the spot. However, I'm still human, so that's kind of unlikely. After all the girls in the cliché stories tend to turn into elves.

Slowly more and more members of the Council enter the Hall. I take a look around and notice Elrond is standing near the fire. There is no one else with him, so I might as well take the opportunity to inform him of my decision. After all it looks like there are way more pros to joining and some of the cons can be easily avoided.

I walk over to the elf lord and take a deep breath. Having to talk to him makes me kind of nervous, not only because blowing my cover could potentially screw me over big time. It's the intimidating aura he has about himself as well. Never in my life have I met a person who can tell you with one glance 'don't fuck with me or I will unleash my uber elven super powers and an army of highly trained immortal dudes on your ass'. "Ah, Laura. Have you made your choice?" There is no smile on his face now. He looks dead serious once again.

"Uhm, yes. You can count me in." I try a smile, but it probably failed. Elrond nods with a slight frown. He doesn't look too happy about my decision but accepts it none the less... Holy crap, who talked him into doing this? It can't possibly be Sebastian. Maybe Gandalf? But that doesn't make much sense, either. Well, whatever.

"Are you sure about this? Even Gandalf and I cannot see the path ahead of Frodo. I fear that none of his companions might return."

Ah, great. I gulp, before nodding firmly. "Yes... Yes, I'm sure." Thankfully I sound way more decisive than I fell right now. But as long as everything works out the way I hope it will, we should be fine. Elrond acknowledges my words, before turning to Legolas, who seems to be waiting to have a word with the Lord of Rivendell as well. Wow, looks like I'm not the only one making last minute decisions today. Okay, Elrond asked me kind of late so I didn't have much of a choice, but still.

I walk away from the fire to give the two elves some privacy. By now the Council is almost complete and most of them have settled into chairs around the fire. There are a few others chilling in the vicinity too. Sebastian, Sam, Merry and Pippin are seated in some arm chairs and are watching Elrond closely. There are also a few elves still hanging out in the Hall, but I'm not sure if they are here because of the meeting.

I grab a free seat between... Erestor, I guess, and the dwarfs. After a few minutes Elrond and Legolas finish their little talk and the wood elf sits down. Elrond remains standing, hands clasped on his back and a serious expression on his face.

After giving us a little intro talk and asking Frodo, if he was still willing to go, he finally gets to the most anticipated topic of the meeting: The lucky winners of the go-and-die-in-fucking-Mordor-lottery: "The Company of the Ring shall be nine. And the Nine Walkers shall be set against the Nine Riders that are evil. With Frodo and Sam Gandalf will go, for this shall be his greatest task and maybe the end of his labors." Okay, I'm kind of curious how Elrond wants to make this nine people. After all there are ten of us now. But okay. He probably doesn't know about Merry and Pippin yet. "For the rest, they shall represent the free peoples of Middle Earth. For the dwarfs Gimli, son of Glóin will go and for the elves Legolas Thranduilion of the Woodland realm. Aragorn of the Dunedain will go, for the Ring concerns him too."

"Strider!" Frodo sounds really happy that his ranger friend is going with him. Elrond however seems to be a bit peeved about being interrupted during his epic speech. Frodo doesn't notice that or simply doesn't care. "I thought you were going to Minas Tirith with Boromir?"

"I do, but we have the same way for hundreds of miles." Elrond clears his throat, so Aragorn cuts whatever else he wanted to say short and lets the elf lord continue. Wow, I always thought Elrond was way more patient than that. But who knows?

"Boromir of Gondor and Laura of Rohan will go as well." Holy fuck. So he was actually serious. I kind of doubted it, after all this is wrong on so many levels. Well, mostly on the level of canon... and maybe cliché. "This leaves one. Maybe I could send one of my own household-"

Elrond gets cut off again, this time by Merry and Pippin who have gotten up and are now standing next to Frodo, arms crossed and looks of absolute determination on their faces. "But that would leave no space for us," Pippin complains. "We want to go with Frodo!" Holy crap, they are even rivaling Sam's performance during the first council meeting. Elrond is giving them an are-you-fucking-serious look, while various other members of the council are biting back grins. Note that most of them are not part of the quest. Dirty bastards. At least they are having fun.

„That is because you do not understand and cannot imagine what lies ahead," says Elrond dryly. He sounds like he is desperately trying to hold back a sigh or an eye roll. "If you knew these things, you would not be as eager to go." Wow, that's nice. Way to go, Elrond.

At that point Gandalf steps in to defend the little guys. "No one of us knows what lies ahead." Uhhh, no. But whatever. "And I, Lord Elrond, would place more trust in friendship than in might or great power. As you said, our mission is one of stealth and not one of military power." Right. Go, hobbit power!

"Exactly," Pippin comments from the back, sounding surprised. Granted, Gandalf's support came unexpected. "Anyway, you would have to tie us up and send us back to the Shire in a sack to stop us from following Frodo!" At this point I have to grin too. The courage of these hobbits is incredible, after all. Frodo is a lucky dude to have friends as good as them.

At this point Elrond gives up with a sigh. "So be it, then. Nine shall accompany the Ring Bearer on his quest." At least the elf found a way to fix the Nine Walkers stuff to accommodate the uber-awesome Ten Walkers. "The Black Riders will have returned to their master by now. Time is on the essence if you wish to leave Rivendell unseen." He pauses for dramatic effect and takes a solemn look around the Hall, lingering in the faces of the Fellowship. Whatever comes next, can't be good. "The Company is to be ready in one week."

There you have it.

So it's official now. I'm going with the Fellowship. Holy crap. And our time in Rivendell is coming to a close as well. That's kind of sad, to be honest. I really like it here. The people are friendly, at least from what I can tell. They might be insulting me in Elvish instead of saying hello, but my Sindarin is basically nonexistent. So it's not like I'd notice that. Anyway, Rivendell is just... beautiful. Once you get used to all the weird stuff, that is. Heck, the lack of technology and plumbing is still bothering me.

The next few days are really busy. Equipment and supplies have to be acquired, Aragorn's sword gets reforged and renamed to Anduríl, plans are made and routes are planed... And meanwhile the moral reaches a new low. No one seems to be happy about the prospect of leaving the save elven city.

At some point the hobbits tried to do some teambuilding during dinner by having the whole Fellowship and friends sitting at one table. Sadly it failed miserably. The dwarfs and Legolas kept as much distance as possible and spent the entire time engaged in a glaring competition. Gandalf didn't show at all while Aragorn at least sat around silently and watched everyone else. Boromir looked really uncomfortable and kind of paranoid and it looked like he tried to get a seat close to either other humans or hobbits. The hobbits themselves did their best to get a conversation going, while Sebastian and I sat around awkwardly.

At that point the legendary Fellowship was basically a bunch of people who don't trust each other enough to share a freaking pizza. It would probably get better with time, but it was still kind of sad.

I spent some time in the library and watched while Aragorn, Gandalf and Frodo planned and discussed routes. It was interesting, but they never really got any further than to the pass of Caradhras, because Gandalf and Aragorn couldn't agree which way should be taken from there.

Now that the whole Fellowship thing is official, Boromir and I ended up training even more. He's gotten over his initial mistrust against me and my background and seems to finally accept the fact that his student is a woman. Plus we even got visitors in the form of Legolas and Aragorn during training. Aragorn ended up showing both of us some new tricks, which wasn't too surprising, considering how much more experience he had. Legolas challenged us to a two vs one while Sebastian and the hobbits watched.

He proceeded to whop our collective ass with that knife of his. Granted, I 'died' after, like, two seconds, so it was really just a one versus one, and Boromir did a really good job of keeping the elf at a distance. But once Legolas managed to close in on Boromir, he managed to grab the human's sword in a matter of seconds and disarmed said human a moment later.

After that little display of skill, Legolas bows, first to Boromir and I, then to the people who watched us. I get up from the grass where I had been sitting after 'dieing' and do the same, before grinning at Legolas. "That was amazing, mate. Well played." Someone should seriously nerf these elves...

Our last day in Rivendell has begun and Boromir and I meet up at the porch after lunch like so often before. This time, however, it's not for training. "Come on," mutters the dude glumly. "We leave tonight and you still do not have a suitable blade." I follow him as he walks down a path leading up a hill behind the house.

It's so weird to imagine I've been living in Rivendell for over two months now and by this time tomorrow I'll be somewhere on the road to Mordor. And to be honest I'm pretty damn nervous about all that. But from what I saw at lunch, nearly everyone is. Some are hiding it better than others, but from what I can tell, no one is unaffected by it.

I push these thoughts aside when we arrive at what seems to be an elvish smithy. A beautiful pavilion is protecting the shop from rain and inside an Elf is hammering away at what seems to be a piece of armor. Swords, shields and various other things are lying around everywhere. The smith himself looks unlike all your cliché smiths ever. He's super thin, young, beardless and for some reason not sweaty at all... he's an elf too, so I really don't know why I'm even surprised.

Boromir clears his throat rather loudly which prompts the elf to stop working and turn to face us. He bows slightly before smiling at us. "Mae govannen. I assume you are here because of the sword?" Boromir nods, while I just stand next to him awkwardly. "Very well." The smith proceeds to rummage around his workshop for a minute, until he finds whatever he was looking for. With the friendly smile still on his face, he returns to us and hands me a sword in a scabbard.

It's not very fancy or anything, but feels good in my hands. Basically it's like the sword I used for training, only a bit lighter. "Uh, thanks." I smile at the smith and bow slightly, before fastening the scabbard on my belt.

The smith just smiles. "You do not need to thank me, but Lord Elrond, for he had me forge it." Okaaay. Looks like I really have a _ton_ to say about what's going on. Really, what is it with people doing important stuff without telling me? "But now I must bid you farewell. There is still work that needs to be finished." With another smile the elf walks back to the fire and starts to work once more.

"Yeah, alright. Still thanks for making it. The sword's amazing!" The smith chuckles while picking up a piece of metal and placing it in the flames. Ah, well. Doesn't look like I'll get anything else out of him, so I turn back to Boromir. We walk back to the house and I can't help but fiddle with the hilt of my newly acquired sword.

The rest of the day passes in a blur and before I even know it, dusk falls. The Fellowship including me is waiting outside the house. Both Gandalf and Elrond are still missing, while a bunch of other people have joined us to say their goodbyes. Aragorn and Arwen are standing at the side, holding hands and talking in low voices, the hobbits have grouped near the door and Gimli and his dad are talking in a gruff sounding language only a few meters to my left. Legolas seems to be done already. He is standing next to Bill the Pony with an unreadable expression on his face. Boromir is standing near me, looking about as out of place as I feel.

Suddenly the door bursts open and Sebastian hurries outside. He takes a quick look around, before running up to me, a relived expression on his face. "Holy crap, I thought, I'd missed you guys," he breathes before giving me a sad smile. "So... Good luck, I guess?"

"Uh, yeah. Thanks, mate." I scratch the back of my head awkwardly and offer him a hand. "See you?"

"See you." Sebastian shakes my hand. "Don't get yourself killed." He hesitates for a second, leans in and whispers in the most serious and borderline menacing tone of voice I've ever heard him use: "Don't change anything, you hear me? Don't. Change. Anything." I nod, slightly taken aback by his demeanor. Changing stuff wasn't my plan and Sebastian knows that.

"I won't, okay? Really." Sebastian nods. He isn't too happy about any of this, but there's nothing he can do right now.

With a sigh he releases my hand and takes a step back, a frown etched into his face. "Good luck, anyway. If you die, I'll kill you." We nod at each other and he leaves to talk to Boromir. That was... weird to say the least. There are of course things one could change, but the possible consequences outweight the benefits of said changes by far. So no messing with the plot for me... I watch as Boromir gives Sebastian a nod and a serious bow, before they clasp underarms in a weird, medieval way. Gandalf and Elrond use that exact moment to finally show up. They probably discussed some last minute plans or something.

Sebastian, Arwen and the other people who have been standing with us quickly take their leave after some more goodbyes and move to stand on the front porch. The Fellowship plus me groups up around Legolas and Bill. Epic group-shot time! Only that the sad bunch that is us doesn't look one bit heroic or awesome or anything along these lines. Elrond studies our faces for a moment. When he starts talking, his voice is grave. "The Ring Bearer in now setting out to destroy the One Ring..." While Elrond is giving his little speech, I take a closer look at everyone. When PJ shot the movies, he clearly went with the Rule of Cool. Gimli isn't carrying three axes (the single ax hanging from his belt is still pretty impressing), Legolas has only one knife plus bow and arrows, Aragorn isn't a wandering armory, as far as I can see and Boromir's shield looks thinner and lighter than it did in the movies. Gimli, Boromir, Frodo and I are the only ones wearing ringmail. Everyone else is dressed in warm traveling clothes with cloaks draped around their shoulders. Well, except for Legolas. But he is a freaking elf after all.

Night has by now fully fallen and the lanterns and bright windows of the house make me wish I'd declined Elrond's offer. But it's too late for that now, I guess-

The sound of a horn being blown directly next to me makes me jump and brutally derails my train of thoughts. Elrond must have finished his speech while I was zoned out. Damnit. Anyway, Boromir who is obviously responsible for the noise lowers the horn of Gondor. Everyone else is staring at him with varying degrees of disbelief, shock and what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you written on their faces. Gandalf is facepalming. "What?" Boromir doesn't even look ashamed or anything. He probably didn't get the memo about this being a stealth mission. "I have always blown the horn at the beginning of a journey. Setting out like thieves in the night-"

Elrond rises a hand to shut Boromir up and sighs. He looks borderline pissed by now. "Now, as I was _saying..._ May the blessings of elves, dwarves, men and all free folk be with you."

This seems to be our cue to leave. Everyone turns around after waving at their friends one last time and follows Gandalf and Aragorn, who have taken positions at the front. Frodo is with them, as are Merry and Pippin, who are chatting away quietly. Gimli is behind them, followed by Boromir, me and Sam who is leading Bill. Legolas takes the back of the line.

We walk across the bride and through the forest, but this time I can't see any elves there. It's a sad walk through the valley and I think about turning back way more than I'd like to admit. It's weird. This is the first Christmas eve ever I'm spending without my family... In Rivendell... On my merry way to Mordor. Fucking great. Just fucking great.

We leave the shadow of the trees a few minutes later and start to climb up the narrow, white path Boromir and I took when we first arrived in Rivendell. Holy crap, that seems like ages ago!

When I take a quick glance over my shoulder in hopes of taking one last look at the Last Homely House, it's already hidden from my sight behind the trees.

With a sigh I turn back towards the path. Well then. Looks like there is no way but forward.

**Uhh, yeah... Late again. Anyway, university and real life have taken quite a toll on my time. But I'm still alive. Anyway, thanks to my dear reviewers, followers and readers! See you next time.**

**Jessicaelvenprincess:**** Thank you so much! I'm doing my best and hope you enjoy this chapter as well.**


	7. The Pass of Caradhras

**Chapter 6: The Pass of Caradhras**

Once we leave the valley and cross the invisible border between Imladris and the Wild, it gets cold. Like really, freeze-your-butt-off cold. It's weird, but seeing how we just left the radius of influence of one of the Three, I'm not that surprised by the change.

Anyway, getting Bill up the last part of the steep path turned out to be a quite tedious job, but we managed it in the end. From there on the plan is really easy. Cross the high moors, go to the ford, turn south, continue until Gandalf says stop. At least, that's how far Gandalf and Aragorn planned out our route.

Everyone else kind of accepted the fact that Gandalf and Aragorn did all the planning. The hobbits, because they are kind of clueless in terms of geography, Legolas and Aragorn have been bros since forever and Boromir seems to be fine with taking the alternative route as long as it gets him home. Gimli seems to be fine with whatever route gets him to Mordor the quickest, he's honor bound to help Frodo after all. Gotta love these thick headed dwarves.

The high moors turned out to be murky as hell. The fact that some of the puddles had frozen over and you might end up stuck knee deep in dirty, cold mud doesn't help to make us feel better, either. At some point Aragorn had to pull Merry out of one of these puddles, because the poor hobbit got stuck waist deep in it. Poor little guy wasn't too happy about that and it took a while until his clothes had dried again.

We are rather silent, except for the occasional splashing followed by creative cursing in different languages. I haven't heard anyone curse in Westron, mind you. Everyone is huddling as deep into their cloaks as possible. Only Legolas seems to not care about the cold wind at all. He also doesn't crack through ice and his tunic isn't splattered with mud like everyone else is. Elves are the real Mary Sues in this place. It's like the guy has some magical protection against grime and dirt! I wonder if his hair gets wet when it rains?

After tugging along like that for nearly two hours, Aragon suddenly signals at us to halt, while he himself creeps forward a few meters. I can't really see what he's doing, because a bunch of weather beaten bushes is obstructing my view. Everyone else groups near the foot of the hill he climbed. I'm kinda worried now. If I remember correctly, we should be fine until we get to Moria, after all there isn't anything hostile till there except for a flock of weird birds. So... Why are we pausing?

I'm not the only one wondering that, as it seems. "What's he doing, Merry?", whispers Pippin next to me, before pulling an apple from his pack.

"Scouting, Pip," grumbles the other hobbit. He just shakes his head and sighs once he notices the apple.

My musing is cut short when Aragorn rises again and walks down the hill in a casual demanour. "We will have to follow the road for a mile and a half until we reach the Bruinen. After crossing it, we shall make our way into the Wild." He looks up to the sky once, before continuing. "The night is still young and we have been making good time up until now. We are lucky, it seems. The road is still free and I at least could not see any unfriendly watchers. Come." Well, that doesn't sound too bad, I guess.

We make our way up the hill and scramble down the steep bank on the other side. The street is deserted as Aragorn said and we continue without any problems to the ford. I'm relieved to finally be rid of the mud. All of us, except that bastard Legolas, are soaked and dirty up to our knees. And freezing, if I'm reading Merry's face correctly.

It goes smoothly from that point on. We make it to the ford around midnight and crossing it goes okay... Well, it's kind of wet and cold, but what can you do? Luckily the water isn't super deep, even for the hobbits. We follow the path for maybe another hour, before Aragorn turns left and leads us into the Wild.

I have no trouble keeping up with everyone, but the speed isn't too brisk yet and staying up at weird times is no problem for me either. Back home I've been hosting a few LANs and my friends and I tended to have messed up sleep schedules, so walking around at night is fine with me. Plus we put most of our supplies and equipment on Bill, so my pack is pretty light.

We stop at sunrise and make camp in a shallow depression hidden under some scruffy underbrush. It's protected by a bunch of crippled trees and some tall bushes so at least we don't have to face the cold wind all day. It's still cold though and Gandalf and Aragorn are not allowing us to light a fire, much to the distaste of the hobbits. Soon after our cold and very silent breakfast everyone except for Aragorn goes to sleep.

When I wake up again, the sun is already setting. Most of the Fellowship are sill asleep and only Gandalf, Aragorn and Legolas are up and chatting quietly some meters away. They are probably discussing the way we are going to take...again. Not like there's much to discuss, because whatever we are going to do leads us south for at least a few more weeks anyway. There would still be the pass Thorin's company took, but if I recall correctly it had been located east of Rivendell and going back there would cost us a lot more time.

I sit up with a yawn and pull the cloak tighter around my shoulders. It's pretty chilly even though the sun is still shining through the western tree branches. If it's like that down here, Caradhras must be freaking freezing. Damn it, I'm not looking forward to that part at all.

It doesn't take long for everyone else to get up. The hobbits are last ones to wake up, but seeing how yesterday's march has taken quite a toll on them, that's not very surprising. From what I've seen in Rivendell most people here go to bed way before midnight, meaning the hobbits' sleep circle is getting really screwed up by our journey.

After a quick and cold dinner we wait for dusk to fall, before we get going again. The wait until then is a silent one. Everyone is on edge from what I can tell. People are keeping their weapons close and conversations are short and never louder than a hushed whisper. Hell, even the hobbits have picked up on the general sense of dread that has spread throughout the fellowship. They are sitting in the middle of our camp, huddled together and silent.

After maybe two hours of nerve wrecking waiting the sun finally sets and we get going again. I'm glad about it, because the dire mood everyone is in is making me super uncomfortable and awakens all my paranoid instincts. Walking at least makes it easier to focus on something else. Like the monotone landscape we are marching through, for example.

And just like that we continue south for days on end. The members of the fellowship start to get used to each other ever so slowly, which is a huge plus in my books. Sure, there is still a certain hostility between Legolas and Gimli, but by now they are willing to talk to each other on a professional level without spitting insults at each other. There are of course still the snide remarks and underhand blows they keep trading, but it isn't open war anymore. And it's funny to watch. Also everyone including Boromir seems to be fine with Aragorn and Gandalf taking the lead. Especially Frodo seems to be relieved someone who knows what he's doing has taken the lead.

After we made it through the first few days without being ambushed or even noticing any signs of an enemy, the initial sense of dread has passed and both pauses and meals have become way more pleasant because people actually started to talk to each other. We are still careful and there's always someone on watch duty, but it has become way more casual.

The landscape hasn't changed too much. It did become a whole lot more bleak and stony since we set out and trees have gotten rarer too. The Misty Mountains seem to grow closer with each day of travel. All in all it has started to look a lot like the way Boromir and I have taken on our way to Rivendell. But the most annoying thing is the wind. It has stayed as cold and strong as it had been on the day we left Rivendell and I feel a bit like it's following us, blowing down from the distant mountains and chilling me to the bone. No amount of thick clothing or blankets seems to be able to hold it off.

So far nothing interesting has happened. Well, apart from that one time when we slept under a bunch of thorny underbrush and I got all scratched up because a nightmare prompted me to start from my sleep in the middle of the day. That wasn't the best of experiences, but at least it got a laugh out of some people.

Right now it's early morning. We have been on the road for nearly two weeks now and from what I remember we should be nearing the pass at this point. The sun has already risen above the mountains to the east, but Aragorn had been hellbent on covering as much distance as humanly – or hobbitly - possible during the night and right now about everyone who isn't Aragorn, Gandalf or Legolas is basically dead on their feet.

We climb a hill and once we reach its flat top, everyone stops. This catches me by surprise and I nearly run into Sam, who has stopped next to Frodo and Gandalf. The wizard has taken his hat off and gazes into the distance for a few seconds, before turning to face us, a smile on his face. "We have reached the old borders of the land Hollin, that once was Eregion."

This makes me perk up quite a bit. Eregion means we are almost at the pass. Awesome. That means the first part of the journey is almost done. I look around curiously and notice the big bush of holly growing only a few meters away from our position. Yeah, this is definitive Eregion.

Gandalf seems to have noticed my glance and nods. "Holly was once the symbol of Eregion as the elves called it," he explains. "The people here marked their borders with these bushes. But that was before Sauron's first rise to power and the land has been empty and uninhabited since. However the weather should be kinder here." He turns back to the mountains and puts his hat back on. "We have made good time indeed."

At this point Pippin steps forward and stands next to the wizard. He stares into the distance for a moment before speaking up and pointing. What he is pointing at is rather obvious. "Gandalf, we must have walked further east during the night than we wanted! Look, the mountains are now in front of us!"

The wizard just sights. "No. But you can see farther during the day. Say, Pippin, have you looked at any of Lord Elrond's maps in Rivendell?" And while Gandalf starts lecturing Pip on geography - Merry seems to find the whole thing quite entertaining, by the way - I follow the others, who have already started climbing down the rocky southern side of the hill.

We make camp at a stone formation a few meters away from the hill. It is a secluded place and Aragorn decides it's safe for us to light a fire today. That, together with the chance of finally getting a warm meal lifts everyone's spirits quite a considerable amount. That isn't very surprising, considering how we haven't had warm food since Rivendell. The same goes for having a fire, by the way.

We quickly set up camp. During the first few days in the Wild, making camp took us a while, because people stood in the way or just weren't sure what to do. But by now everyone has fallen into a routine and knows what to do. Gimli and Sam get the fire going, Legolas is standing on one of the stones and watches the sun rise while Aragorn is scouting out the surroundings. Everyone else is either unpacking Bill, fixing the bed rolls or just chilling. Gandalf and Co are still standing on one of the hills, talking about the geography of the place.

The atmosphere, however, is tense. The reason for that is the land. It has been quiet during the whole night, but during the last few hours the silence has become nearly unbearable. To me it seemed like the ten of us were the only living beings for miles here. No birds, no insects... just us and a hobbit pony. It's weird and really unsettling.

Once I'm done fixing my bedroll on the most comfortable looking spot of ground still available, I get up. Breakfast isn't done yet and the darkish mood in the camp is making my skin crawl, so I decide to take a short walk. Plus I might find some water, which would be awesome because we need to refill our water skins anyway.

I head west. The landscape isn't spectacular in any way and after noticing how dry everything is I doubt that I'll find any water. It's the same rocky terrain with some small bushes we've been walking though all day and I'm getting bored of it pretty fast.

Plus the silence is weighting down on me. It wasn't that noticeable in camp or while we were walking, but now... It feels unnatural and it is starting to make me feel super paranoid. Like the very earth was holding it's breath before unleashing hell on our collective arse or something.

I stop at an old riverbed. It's dry like everything else here and from what I can tell the river it once held has long since dried out. What catches my eye however, are the tracks in it. Frowning I jump down to take a closer look. I kneel down carefully and trace the outline of one of the footprints with my finger.

"What the..." It's way bigger than any human footprint I've ever seen and from what I can tell it was made by some kind of feave boot or whatever. Plus it's pretty deep, so whoever made it was either really fat or was wearing a crapton of armor.

If I had to make an educated guess on who made these tracks, I'd go with orcs. Cursing under my breath I scramble up out of the riverbed and start sprinting in the direction of camp. I crash through the underbrush at full speed, not caring about the noise I'm causing or the twigs getting caught in my clothing. If there are orcs here, I have to warn the others and fast.

When I break through the bushes surrounding camp a few minutes later, I'm out of breath and sweaty as hell. From what I can gather, breakfast is almost done and everyone but Aragorn is sitting around the campfire. The ranger, who seems to be the first to notice my arrival, jumps down from the rocks he has been standing on and sprints over to me. Legolas, Boromir and Gimli are getting to their feet as soon as they realize something is wrong.

"What is it? Are you alright?" The ranger looks concerned.

"I'm fine," I gasp. "Went west... There...are orc tracks...at a river...not far from here."

Before I'm even done talking, swords are drawn and Legolas grabs his bow, but luckily the blades of Sting and Glamdring are dark. At least the orcs are nowhere near us. The concerned expression on Aragorn's face changes to one of determination.

"Are you sure it were orc tracks?," Boromir asks.

I think for a second. "No... Not exactly. It could be evil men as well... Or something else... Would explain why Sting is dark in case they are still here somewhere."

A concerned silence follows. "Two of us should stand watch today." Legolas gets up, an arrow notched. His normally calm face shows slight anxiety, surprisingly. The only time I saw him this nervous was months ago during the council. "This land is not safe anymore." The hobbits shift closer to each other and the fire when he says that.

"Yes." Aragorn nods, before gesturing at Boromir to come over. When he addresses me again, there is a very noticeable edge in his tone. "Show me where you found these tracks."

I nod and take the lead. We leave the camp together and hurry through the underbrush as fast and stealthy as possible. No one speaks and I don't dare to break the tense silence. Even though the blades of Sting and Glamdring had remained dark, Aragorn is still super careful, fearing that whatever left the traces might be lying in wait somewhere. When we are only a few meters away from the riverbed, I hold up a hand and mouth 'down there'.

We crouch down and sneak up to the river, swords at the ready. Aragorn glances down, takes a quick look around, sheathes Anduril and gets up. He jumps down and takes a closer look at the footprints. Boromir and I get up as well and wait for him.

It doesn't take the ranger long to analyze the tracks. He has experience with this kind of stuff, after all. "You were right about them being Orc tracks," he explains while climbing back up to where Boromir and I stand. "But these are bigger than the tracks of orcs from the mountains. And they are at least a month old, if not older." One month! They could be anywhere by now! He frowns. "It is hard to tell much from these tracks, but it seems no one else came here since they were made." He sights. "Let us return and tell the others about this."

Aragorn walks back and I'm about to follow him, but Boromir grabs my arm. "Wait. Could these be tracks left by the orcs that attacked you and your company?"

I sight and shrug. "I don't know. They could be... Well, the time frame kind of fits. Not exactly, but if they were delayed or something... And when these were not made by mountain orcs... Yes, it's a possibility, I guess." I cross my arms and stare at the tracks. If they captured anyone of my friends, we'd be in deep shit.

"Where do you thing they are going? It is a long way from here to Mordor." Boromir has followed my gaze and I can see concern edged in his face while he studies the tracks.

"Isengard would be logical. It's closer plus these guys could have been Uruks... But let's go back before the hobbits eat all the food." Boromir nods and drops the subject.

We walk in silence for a while - slower this time - until the Gondorian speaks up again. "I do not trust this place. It is too quiet." It's just now that I notice he is clutching the hilt of his sword with one hand. And I thought I was paranoid... "Even the trees are silent."

"Yeah." I look around. The sky is still completely cloudless and beautiful and surrounding us is nothing but holly and stones. "I don't like it either. But seriously, I'd prefer this to a bunch of enemies."

"As do I, of course. It is still rather unsettling."

I nod. Yeah, nothing to add there, big guy.

When we walk back into camp a moment later, everyone else is already eating. Aragorn somehow managed to save some food for us, which is awesome, because I'm starving. This place might be creepy as hell, but I know the plot and we should be fine until Moria.

The rest of the day passes rather unspectacularly. Legolas and Merry take the first watch while everyone else goes to sleep under some bushes. But sadly the creepy shit isn't done with us yet.

The sound of hundreds of flapping wings and loud cawing wakes me up around midday. It's a good thing for us that Sam had stomped out the fire earlier and that Aragorn had told us to relocate our bedrolls to some bushes, because what I see now is really fucking scary.

A giant flock of crows is swirling over our heads. And these crows aren't your regular crows either. To me at least they seem to be gigantic. And they are loud. I lie still on my back, afraid to even breathe, and simply wait for them to finally leave. Sure, I know they won't hurt us or anything, but they still freak me out. Well, maybe it's just because of their sheer number. Or their loud cawing. Really, the sun seems to be hidden behind a cloud while the crows circle above our camp.

When they are finally gone I let out a huge sigh. That was fucking intense.

I stay hidden and wait for Aragorn of Gandalf to make a move. A few minutes pass, before they start to crawl out from under their respective bushes. The hobbits look pale and scared once Legolas manages to convince them that it's save now, but they are not the only ones. Aragorn too looks reasonable concerned. And when Gandalf decides against spending another day in Hollin, no one complains.

I offer to take the last watch of the day once everything is settled and Boromir joins me. While the others return to their bedrolls to spend the last few hours of daylight in relative peace, I grab my sword and clamber up a pretty big rock. The day drags on, but obviously Saruman isn't done yet. Flocks of crows keep flying across the land and we have to relocate under a bush after maybe an hour or so to not get spotted by them.

It's super creepy and on top of that I can't seem to shake off the fear of what the Uruks might be taking back to Isengard. When they captured one of my friends the repercussions might be fatal to our quest. Finally the sun sets and after I wake up the others we get ready to march again. Dinner is cold once more, as we don't want to risk making our presence known by lighting a fire.

I personally believe the crows spotted us, but keep that thought to myself. If Gandalf or Aragorn decided to chance our route because of that it might turn out super bad for us. After a rather rushed and cold dinner we pack up and get going.

The first part of this night's march has gone by without any sort of problem, well, except for a grumpy hobbit maybe. Pippin ended up being slightly pissed because Gandalf denied him a warm dinner, but it was nothing major. Right now it's already a few hours after midnight and dawn is not far away. The night turned out to be rather cold and at least I am freezing and tired by now. That's the annoying thing about watch duty. The next day freaking sucks.

I'm looking up to the sky, wondering why in hell the stars formations here are the same as on earth, when suddenly a giant, dark shadow blocks out the light for the fraction of a second. It's weird and I nearly run into Aragorn, who has stopped walking and is staring skyward.

A few meters away Frodo whispers something along the lines of "Gandalf, what was that?" I can't understand the answer the wizard provides, but the concern in his voice is still evident.

Aragorn comments on whatever Gandalf said with: "But too fast and against the wind." So I guess the wizard suspected a wisp of cloud. I for one am not so sure about that. Normally I enjoy being right about stuff, but here? If my theory turned out to be true, we'd be in a lot of trouble. Mostly because meeting a Nazgûl this close to Rivendell would suck.

We keep moving after that, mostly to get as fast and far away from the place where the potential Nazgûl might have spotted us.

The next morning is beautiful. With a clear, blue sky and lots and lots of sunshine. It's still freaking cold, but what can you do? At least it looks nice. The mountains have come closer during the night, so we should probably be only a few days away from the pass. Gandalf looked a bit worried when he noticed the snow on the mountain peaks this morning, but Aragorn had just shrugged his concerns off.

Gandalf had accepted whatever the ranger had told him, thus setting our rout in stone.

Once again we spent the day in a pan in the ground, well hidden by a bunch of crippled trees. At some point Gandalf and Aragorn snuck off to have a more private conversation - probably about the rout we were going to take - but that was about it. I kind of hoped that the pass would work out because seeing Moria with all its monsters and ass crazy demons wasn't high on my priority list, but that was highly unlikely.

I also ended up thinking quite a bit about the wisdom behind my decision. Now that I actually am a member if the Fellowship it seems a lot less clever than it had sounded back in the safety of Rivendell. But if everything goes as planned in Moria I should be fine. And seriously, being scared of a bit of darkness is not exactly something I want to be. There is of course a Balrog strong enough to take out Gandalf. For a time at least.

And we will need the level up on him later, so intervening there is not an option. Sure, letting someone you know die is kind of a dick move, but what can I do? We'll _need_ Gandalf the White and he is going to be fine anyway. Sure, I'd love to spare everyone the pain of loosing a friend, but changing stuff is way too risky in the end.

Aragorn wakes me up around dusk. After a quick and cold dinner Boromir suggests we collect some firewood. He and Aragorn have quite a bit of experience with hiking, so everyone else accepts their plan without complaining. The only one who isn't too happy about the plan, is Gandalf. He is a bit scared of giving away our position with fire, but agrees in the end.

Well, not before making one of his grumpy-wizard comments, abyway. "But let us only use it when we have to chose between fire and death," he had grumbled before marching off and lighting his pipe. Everyone else had just sighted, after all the wizard had a bit of a point and he couldn't possibly know about the freaking blizzard we are about to walk into.

But really, how come people here have such a talent for motivating others? The terrified looks Merry and Pippin exchanged after Gandalf had left told me I wasn't the only one thinking something along these lines.

After collecting as much wood as we can carry – seriously, even Bill had to carry some of it and the poor pony had been carrying a ton of stuff before already - we get going once more.

The path Aragorn decided to take isn't too difficult at the beginning, but as it gets gradually darker it becomes harder and harder to see cracks and stones in our way. Plus the path seems to be in a pretty bad condition, which makes the whole climb a pain in the arse and slows us down to a crawl.

That's when the snowfall sets in. Pippin suddenly holds out a hand. "Oh, look!" The hobbit takes a closer look at whatever he just caught. "It's snowing!"

These two measly sentences cue a collective groan from everyone except Pippin, who sights and mutters: "But snow is awesome..." I wonder if he'll still think that way when the snow goes up to his nose.

At first it's just a few flakes here and there, but after half an hour it's nearly impossible to see more than ten meters ahead. The wind means the snow is flying nearly horizontally, which sucks.

When we finally pause we are already pretty high up. There is a giant cliff on our left, a deep, dark chasm to our right and darkness everywhere around us. The narrowness of the path isn't helping either and I spend most of the pause with my back pressed against the rock, afraid to accidentally trip and fall to my death or something.

I had kind of hoped that we might get away without getting stuck in a blizzard, but Saruman is a dick.

When we get ready to move on a few minutes later, Gandalf drags Aragorn away from everyone else. I'm pretty sure they are discussing the route ahead, but it's impossible to understand whatever they are saying over the wind. But I seriously doubt that it's something good.

Gimli seems to have picked up on the wizard's concern. The dwarf is glancing around warily and grumbles: "Caradhras is in a truly bad mood today."

"In my home they say Sauron could control the storms in the Shadow Mountains," Boromir adds darkly. He looks up to the dark sky and frowns. "Maybe this is one of his tricks."

Gimli grunts something unintelligible. "His arm must have become very long when he wishes to plague us with snow this far north." The dwarf puts on a very serious face - the kind of face you'd normally use while telling horror stories at a camp fire – and lowers his voice. "It is easily 300 miles from here to your Shadow Mountains. There are reasons Caradhras is called the Cruel One, you know."

"Well, maybe our timing is just shit," I suggest, knowing full well that that's bullshit. The dwarf just shrugs some snow off his hood and picks up his pack.

"I wish it were that easy, lass," he grumbles before marching off to where Gandalf, Aragorn and Legolas are waiting.

During our little rest the snowfall had decreased quite a bit, which is probably why Gandalf and Aragorn want to get moving again. The snow on the ground is still going up to at least my ankles and it'll probably only get worse from now on.

Only a few minutes after we get moving, the snowfall resumes. And it's back with a vengeance. The snow flakes are bigger than any I have ever seen and the wind has picked up, too. My hood isn't doing much, because the wind is blowing the snow into my face anyway, even though I try to stay in Boromir's slipstream.

Back home I had done quite a lot of skiing and thus had been to some glaciers already, I had seen some little blizzards as well and they had been quite manageable. The vision had been awfull and I had to pull a scarf over my face, but it had been all right. This however is ridiculous. The snow feels like needles picking into my skin plus I can't see anything except for Boromir's back half a meter in front of me and Merry, who is walking behind me.

And the sound of the wind blowing over rocks and through cracks is really creeping me out. In the movie someone had commented on 'cruel voices' or something like that. I had always considered that to be some kind of metaphor or exaggeration, but now? They had been right. The wind here really sounds a lot like some crazy dude is laughing at us in a very high-pitched voice. Looks like Saruman is one creative bastard. I try to look around for the source of the sounds, but there is not much to see. Only snow and the silhouettes of the others.

While we make our way up the mountain it continuously grows colder and the snowfall gets thicker and thicker. Moving forward against the storm turns out to be incredibly exhausting and the snow that is by now going up to my calves isn't helping either. Luckily the bigger persons walking in front of the hobbits and I are leaving a track in the snow, so it's not that bad.

I can faintly hear Gimli muttering what seems to be a cascade of Dwarfish swear words and the hobbits aren't doing too well either. The snow on their hoods and shoulders is centimeters high and they are hunched over against the wind.

We walk for what feels like hours. But at this point I have kind of given up on guessing the time of night a while ago and am simply concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. Well, at least until I run straight into Boromir, who has stopped walking for some reason. Looks like we are pausing again. I am actually pretty thankful for that, because I feel like my legs are made of lead.

Gandalf and Aragorn seem to discuss if we should keep going or not, but I don't listen to them. If this is the point I think it is, we should be turning around-

A loud sound from somewhere over our heads makes me look up just in time to see a truck load of snow and rocks fall towards us. My eyes grow wide with shock. Oh shit.

"WATCH OUT!" I can't hear who shouts it and at least to me it doesn't matter. Someone grabs the back of my cloak and pulls me back against the cliff moments before the avalanche comes crashing down. The rocks seem to have missed us and roll down into the chasm. But the snow still hits us with full force. It's sheer weight brings me to my knees and the hobbits get completely buried.

Legolas helps me up, while Aragorn and Boromir push through the now chest high snow to where the hobbits stood moments ago. I give the elf a thankful nod and shout "Thank you!", but I seriously doubt he heard it over the raging storm. Legolas nods back, before he hurries over to the hobbits.

I start digging where Gimli stood moments ago, but the dwarf manages to free himself just seconds later. Luckily it doesn't take long to find everyone and soon all of us are standing huddled together with our backs against the cold rock. Plus having a butt load of snow dumped on you might lead to having snow in your clothes, so if I haven't been freezing much before, I surely am now.

We huddle together, backs against the cliff side. The hobbits manage to hide behind Bill the Pony, so they are at least a bit protected from the weather. But the wind seems to be coming from every side, howling in my ears and biting into my skin. Plus the blizzard is still growing in strength. It's still super dark, so I can only see faint outlines of the others' faces, but still: everyone looks like they are done. Heck, even Aragorn seems to be fed up. I pull the cloak tighter around my shoulders with a sigh. There is nothing to do for us, but to wait.

Seriously, how much worse can Moria be? At least you can do something a bunch of goblins! And you don't freeze your butt off.

We've been standing around here for a while now, when I notice a movement from the corner of my eye: Frodo's legs must have given out and the hobbit is sliding down into the snow. That's a bad sign. Aragorn quickly reaches over and pulls the hobbit back to his feet.

"What do you think about a fire now? It seems the choice between fire and death is close!" Boromir, who must have watched the Frodo incident, has to shout to be heard over the raging storm.

The idea is met with hopeful looks from everyone and especially the hobbits. Only Gandalf isn't too happy about it. The wizard heaves a sigh and grumbles something, before nodding. And seriously, if anyone is crazy enough to spy on us here, we should let him have his fun. That kind of effort would deserve at least a little bit of appreciation.

The wizard throws Aragorn a small bundle of wood while saying something I don't quite catch over the wind. Probably a sarcastic comment about the fellowship's abilities to build a fire here, if I remember the books correctly.

While Aragorn does his best to light the wet, frozen wood on fire, Gandalf pulls a little flask out of his robes and passes it around. He claimed it was a healing potion from Rivendell, but I kind of suspect that it was super strong elvish booze or something. At least it smelled that way.

After everyone who knows how to start a fire failed miserably at doing so – Gimli was probably the most interesting and I learned a whole lot of Khuzdul curses while he tried – Gandalf finally decides to work his magic. Quite literally, actually. He simply thrusts his staff into the bundle and shouts what sounds like an Elvish incantation. A _huge_ green flame shoots out of the wood and sears off Boromir's eyebrows in the process.

A few minutes later we have formed a little circle around the strange green fire. By now a bit of warmth and life has returned to my fingers and toes, which is quite nice. There is still a rumble coming from higher up the mountainside now and then, but there are no longer stones rolling down. The night around us is still black and it hasn't stopped snowing either. Good times.

Fast forward a few hours and we are standing in an ankle high puddle of mud. The fire had turned out to burn quite quick and we have nearly run out of wood. I'm tired and freezing, but compared to Pippin I seem to be holding up fine. The poor guy had to be pulled out of the snow at least twice, before Aragorn wrapped him into his spare cloak.

Aragorn did announce sunrise a while back, but it takes at least another hour until it is really noticeable. But when the first rays of light finally pierce the heavy, gray clouds, the snowfall finally stops.

At first I'm quite happy that this night is finally over.

Then Aragorn steps out of the protection of the cliff and immediately sinks about chest deep into the snow. The ranger looks surprised for a second. With a sigh he looks up to the sky before turning around again. "We should leave while the weather holds. I am afraid your Caradhras is not done with us yet, Gimli." The dwarf grumbles something that sounds an awful lot like 'told you so'.

Well, looks like getting off the mountain again will be as much of a pain in the ass as getting up here was. This night is _so_ taking first place on my 'shittiest nights ever' list.

"How are we supposed to walk through all that?" Pippin asks dismayed. Good question indeed. The hobbits and Gimli would probably get completely buried if they tried to walk anywhere here.

After a quick discussion it is decided that Boromir and Aragorn should take the lead and dig a path for everyone else. I kind of zoned out for most of the conversation, but when I offered my help in the end Aragorn declined it in a very polite but resolute way.

While the two men start wading through the chest high snow, Legolas simply jumps on top of the next snowdrift and leisurely jogs past us, probably to explore the surroundings. I swear I saw him grin before he disappears from my field of vision. Freaking elves, man.

Silence descends upon the remainder of the fellowship. While we wait the sun slowly climbs the eastern sky. The hobbits start a conversation at some point, but I am too tired to follow it. Instead I discover something quite unsettling. "Guys, you might want to check that out." I point at the southern sky, where dark clouds are forming once more. They are still quite far away, but after this night I'm against taking any chances with the weather up here. And if it truly is Saruman who is behind this, we should really get moving.

"It is the mountain, as I told you before," says Gimli gruffly. "Our presence here has awakened its ire and it will not rest until we have left it for good."

The hobbits exchange worried glances. "We should've gone to that Moria-place Gimli talked about," Sam mutters, an anxious edge in his voice. Except for Gimli, who nods, no one responds.

The awkward silence is broken when Legolas reappears. He is still wearing a slight grin on his face. "I may not have found the sun, but I still have good news for you. The snow is only this deep for about one fifth of a mile from here. Further down it is hardly enough to tickle a hobbit's ankle." That really is good news. And it means Aragorn and Boromir should be back soon. I glance up to the gathering storm clouds once more. Seriously, I don't want to be up here when they get to Caradhras.

"However Aragorn and Boromir nearly were buried when they tried to break though the last snowbank." Noticing Pippin's concerned look, Legolas quickly adds: "Do not worry. They are fine."

And so we wait. I'm pretty sure Legolas noticed the clouds as well, but he doesn't mention it. Maybe because he doesn't want to scare the hobbits or because he is sure that we'll get out of here in time. They do however add an annoying timer to this whole thing.

It takes nearly half an hour until Aragorn and Boromir come into view again. They are climbing up the path at an agonizingly slow pace, but the plan has worked: they are leaving behind a narrow trail of trampled snow. It still looks kind of hard to get down there when one is hobbit size though.

"Let us pack up. We have to move quickly if we do not wish to get caught in a second storm!" Legolas is already picking up the pack he left behind when he went exploring.

When Aragorn and Boromir finally make it to our location, everyone is ready to get going again. The men look pretty bad though. They look super tired and are sweaty despite the cold. It is quickly decided that the hobbits will have to be carried down. Because no one wants to waste any time by going twice, Aragorn, Legolas, Boromir and I pick up one hobbit each. Gimli gets to ride Bill and we start the treck down.

The fifth of a mile turns out to feel _way_ longer than it should have. Even though the guys did their best to carve a way for us, the snow still goes up to about my knees. This in combination with the hobbit on my back makes the whole thing quite exhausting.

After what feels like an eternity we make it to the snowbank the men had so much trouble with. It's at least one and a half times as high as I am, but it's not very thick. The two men simply broke a hole through the middle of it and trampled the snow flat.

It turns out Legolas was right. The snow on the other side isn't even ankle deep, so I set Merry down. "Thanks." The hobbit smiles at me.

"Yeah, no problem." I smile back and watch while Gimli slides awkwardly from Bill's back. The dwarf nearly falls over, but manages to regain his balance in the very last moment. Seems like the poor guy is really talentless when it comes to horses. All the riding in _Return of the King_ must suck so much for him...

Gandalf starts walking again. "Come on now! We have-"

CRASH.

The loud noise makes me jump and turn around. Bill dashes forward a few paces and nearly knocks Gimli down in the process. Behind us the mountain seems to have caved in or something. When the dust settles I realize that it was only an avalanche, but it looks like the way up is blocked.

Meh, too bad for anyone who hopes to take the pass after us. They'll have a lot of fun cleaning that mess up.

"A last gift from the mountain," Gimli grumbles. "So we do not dare return."

I shoot the mountain peak far above us a glare. "I don't even want to go back up there." The night had been a shitty one no matter who was responsible for it. Saruman, Caradhras, bad timing... who cares. At least we got off the mountain in one piece. Even if it's a very cold and tired piece.

Well, this means the first leg of the journey is done. Finally. But I'm not sure if this is the best moment to be happy.

After all the dark depths of Moria are next.

Somehow I fear I'll be wishing to be back at Caradhras soon...

**Nimrodel626: ****Thanks! It's just about the wording. In the books Elrond seemed to like the archnumber thing a lot, so it would make sense if he tried to make it work for 10 people. So instead of saying flat out 10 Walkers he said Frodo would be accompanied by 9 Walkers. **

**Jessicaelvenprincess: ****Thank you! Glad you like it. The Game is an internet thing. You can't win it, but loose whenever you think about the Game. Once you have lost you have to announce it to the people around you by saying 'I lost the Game'. The overall goal is to have everyone play it and to not loose for as long as possible. I hope that explains it a bit :D**


	8. Warg Whispering 101

**Chapter 7: ****Warg Whispering 101**

"What way will we take now that the pass is closed to us?" Legolas asks while we climb down the path. I might be imagining things, but there seems to be a tense edge in his voice. Like he has a suspicion what Gandalf is planning and doesn't like it one bit. "There is no other pass south of here and returning to Imladris to wait for spring would delay our quest too much."

"You are right, Master Elf," Gandalf says from the front of the group. "If we returned to Rivendell we would never be able to leave it undetected again. The lands around it would fall to the shadow until Imladris is but an island in a sea of darkness." He shoots Aragorn a glance, but the ranger just frowns and stays silent. Yeah, looks like he knows what Gandalf is about to do as well.

"We could take the Gap of Rohan," Boromir offers from somewhere behind me. "The Horselords are allies of my people and honorable men." Not a bad idea, if it wasn't for Saruman. He'd probably notice us as soon as we get within fifty miles of Isengard – if he hasn't already. And after the stunt he pulled on the pass I'm not going to randomly show up on his doorstep. Way too dangerous.

"You realize Saruman betrayed us and the Gap of Rohan is basically his front yard?"

Boromir doesn't even get a chance to answer my question because Gandalf picks up on it. He turns around to glare at Boromir for a moment, who seems to shrink a bit. "Did you not pay attention at the Council? Laura is right. That way would take us to close to Isengard. And we do not know what happened to the Horselords since Saruman's betrayal. For all we know they might have sided with the enemy."

That's harsh, dude. "I don't think many of them would do that even if Théoden decreed it." I shrug. The wizard shoots me a glance that is luckily not as scary as the ones Boromir and Pippin seem to get on a regular basis. "What? I'm with you when it comes to the other points. And, seriously, one run in with Saruman's magic is enough to last me a lifetime. I doubt I'll be that lucky though."

"We could go through the Mines of Moria," Gimli calls out. And he is looking disgustingly happy while doing so. Ignorance is bliss, I guess. The dwarf's eyes are gleaming with anticipation and the fact that we might consider his idea now has made him a lot perkier. After all this might be his chance to find his cousin - or whatever their relationship might be – Balin after the dude went missing years ago. And it would allow him to take a look at the long lost wonders of the Mines. And, as everyone knows, sightseeing is more important than giant monsters and a buttload of goblins.

The name of the mines has a strange effect on the fellowship. Fear seems to envelop us like a blanket. Even I with all the knowledge I have can't help the cold shudder running down my spine. I have watched the movies a gazillion times, read the books, played a crap ton of LotR games, but still... In theory there is so much down there that could screw us over. One wrong step and someone is dead.

But I won't intervene. No way.

We walk in silence for a while, until Pippin asks "What is this Moria-place anyway? I can't possibly be worse than the pass... right?" Oh, my sweet summer child...

Gimli is not surprisingly the first one to answer. "My ancestors built the Mines of Moria. To my people they are one of the greatest wonders of Middle Earth, but sadly we had to abandon them a long time ago. Since then few dwarves have seen them and few others have wandered their great halls. At least, until a few years ago some of my kin tried to reclaim them. Balin, who was one of Bilbo's companions, was among them. With some luck we might even meet him while making our way through. I am sure he would spare some roasted meat and malt beer for us... The cities and halls of Moria must have been truly beautiful when Durin and his people still lived there. I wish I could see it during those days of light..." His face takes on a slightly distant expression.

No one else comments on the matter.

We walk until night falls. I'm dead on my feet by the time we finally stop and the hobbits look like they are about to collapse, but we managed to get a good bit of distance between Caradhras and ourselves. Which is good because another storm swept over the mountain a few hours after we left it. Dinner is cold again, but no one cares. I devour my food rather quickly – our last meal had been before Caradhras after all.

Dinner is a silent matter, because everyone is looking forward to finally get some sleep.

I'm about to lay out my bedroll, when Aragorn calls us to the center of the camp for a little discussion. Damn it, the Moria thing still has to be decided, right?

After everyone has set down in a circle, Frodo starts talking. "What is our way now?" He sounds rather worried. "You keep mentioning these Mines. And from what I understand there is no alternative to them, except for returning to Rivendell and giving up."

Sam and the other hobbits had perked up when they heard the name Rivendell, but lower their heads again when Frodo denies it almost instantly. Poor little guys.

"I still think we should take the Gap of Rohan. This Fellowship was created with stealth in mind. And how can we even hope to make it to the Orodruin undetected when we cannot make it past one of the enemy's henchmen? I shall not take this road unless all of you overrule me." Boromir glances at us expectantly. He does have a point when it comes to us being supposed to be stealthy though.

Gandalf sights in a very 'we have been over this'-ish way. "We must not stir up danger before we have to. And I do not know if this is the moment to challenge Saruman. I will have to face him before the end, but that time has yet to come. Now, on the topic of Moria. I have been in the mines once before and I am confident that I can lead you through them. And when Hollin is being watched it might be wise to go underground for a while and conceal our tracks. My advice is not to walk over the mountains or around them, but to walk under them." The wizard doesn't look particularly happy with all of this, but he is making a lot of sense. And everyone here knows that. If they are happy about that is a different question though.

"I will follow you, if you are able to find the gates that are closed. To see the halls of Durin would be truly wonderful, no matter what might be waiting for us there." Told you. Sightseeing is more important than some puny monsters. The dwarf thumps on his chest, eyes sparkling with excitement. Seriously, this guy is the only one here who is looking forward to the whole Moria thing. Good for him. And for us, I guess. Everyone who manages to keep a level head down there will be an asset for us.

"Thank you, Gimli. This encourages me. You will not be as easily confused by your ancestors' halls as elves, men or hobbits. Now, what about the others?" He looks at each of us expectantly.

Well, there is no reason here to hold back. I take a deep breath and hope that my voice won't start shaking. "Alright, I'll come too. I'm not looking forward to going down there, but it's the only logical way." Gandalf nods with a small smile when I fall silent again.

Aragorn is the next to speak up. "I have wandered the mines once. I came from the Dimrill Dale entrance then and made an experience I do not wish to repeat. I do not want to go a second time." He looks seriously concerned. Whatever is able to scare Aragorn without being a Balrog is something I don't wish to meet. Like, ever. On the other hand it has made me curious. Gotta remember to ask him about it at some point.

"And I don't want to go a first time," Pippin calls from the shadows next to Legolas. A round of nods follows the statement.

"Of course not!" Gandalf grumbles. "Nobody wants that. But I do not ask if you want to go, but if you would follow me if I led you though the mines, Peregrin Took!"

"I will follow you," Gimli repeats.

"Same here," I say seriously. Come on, guys. Stop being pussies already and man up a little!

Aragorn doesn't look too happy with the turn of events, but agrees none the less. Not without giving us a word of warning first, though. "Be careful when you pass through the gates of Moria. They hold no good." He sighs. "You did follow me to Caradhras and did not blame me for my mistake. Now I shall follow your lead. May it take us through the darkness on a safe path."

Boromir just shrugs. "As I said before I will only go in case all of you overrule me. But what about you, Legolas? And the small folk. Should not the word of the Ring Bearer be heard? He should have a say in this matter, I believe." He does have a point.

"I do not want to go," Legolas says flatly.

Frodo shifts uncomfortably as all eyes turn to him. It's hard to say in the darkness, but I swear his face just turned a bit redder than normal. After pondering the issue for a few moments he speaks up. "Let us wait with this decision until morning. We are all tired and I believe Gandalf's idea will find more support once the sun has risen." Looks like Frodo is the only sensible person around here! We have been up for way over twenty four hours now and everyone is at their limit. Heck, even Legolas looks kind of bad! After a moment of silence Frodo adds something else. It's so quiet I nearly don't catch it. "How the wind howls!"

I frown and listen. The wind sounds strange indeed. I'm not sure what it is, but it's weird. Huh. We should be fine until we reach the gates of Moria and have to face the watcher, though. Thus I'm sure it's nothing to worry about.

With a sigh I stagger to my feet and roll out my bedroll. I fall asleep as soon as my head touches the blanket.

It feels like mere minutes have passed when a shout violently ends my sleep. It takes me a moment to comprehend what's going on. Aragorn is kicking everyone awake while Legolas is already busy packing up our stuff. "How the wind howls," the ranger growls. "It howls with the voice of the wild wolfs!"

Wait... WHAT?

I sit there for a second and listen to the wind. He's right. I can hear it too. The wind is carrying the faint howl of what sounds like a whole pack of wolves to us. A cold shudder runs down my spine and makes my hair stand on end. Oh crap.

"The wild Wargs must have crossed the mountains from the east! We need to move!" There is fear in Aragorn's voice as he speaks. Fuck, there is no way this is happening! Wasn't the scene with the wargs from _The Hobbit_?

Exhaustion is forgotten as I scramble to collect my things and stuff them into my pack. By now everyone is up and camp is broken in record time.

The distant howling is growing louder with each passing minute. This is bad. Really bad!

In the pale moon light I can see varying degrees of fear on the faces of my companions. Not like I'm doing any better. And seeing how it even scares seasoned warriors makes it even more terrifying. I take a deep breath and try to calm my racing heart. We'll be fine.

"What do you think about Moria now?" Gandalf calls over the general chaos while everyone finishes packing up. The hobbits are standing in the center of our camp, swords drawn and facing outwards. "The hunt has begun! And even if we survive the night, going south with the Wild Wolves on our heels would be a great gamble." He does have a point there.

"Yeah, whatever! Let's just get out of here!" I glance over my shoulder, afraid to see gleaming eyes in the darkness surrounding us or whatever. Luckily there are none. The howling seems to come from all directions though.

"How far is it to the mines?" Boromir asks.

Gandalf is silent for a moment, probably because he has to calculate the distance first. "Fifteen to twenty miles as the crow flies." That's way too far. Our chances to get away from the wargs are shit. Boromir frowns. He seems to have reached the same conclusion.

"Dude, we'll never make it!" I say. "Not before they find us."

"We should stay here in depart and the morning." I didn't even notice Aragorn coming over. Anyway, he sounds calm and determined as he says that. I'm about to ask him if he's gone completely crazy but the ranger holds up a hand to stop me. "We should find a position that is easier to defend, never the less."

After everyone has made sure their weapons are ready and easy to reach, we set off in a quick jog. The wolves are still somewhere behind us, but the wind makes it sound like it's only meters instead of a mile or whatever. I keep glancing over my shoulder but every time I look all there is are a huffing and puffing Gimli and Aragorn with Bill the Pony.

Even once I'm out of breath, fear and adrenaline keep me going until we make it to a hill with some crippled trees on it. The summit is surrounded by a crumbling stone wall with only one entrance.

It is quickly decided that this is probably the best position we can find before the wargs catch up with us, so we quickly climb the hill and make camp within the walls. Gimli lights a fire and whoever can manage it goes to sleep. I, for one, can't. Partly because of the adrenaline still in my system and partly because the howling is creeping me out beyond belief.

Legolas, Gimli and the hobbits lie down under the trees, their respective weapons next to them in case we get attacked. Aragorn, Boromir, Gandalf and I sit around the fire and keep watch. Glamdring is lying across Gandalf's knees. The edges are emitting a faint blue glow.

Man, this whole thing has gone to shit rather fast. Having orcs on our trail at this point is kind of bad.

Is any of this even canon? It's been a while since I read _the Lord of the Rings, _so chances are I'm forgetting something. But right now I'd say whatever is going on here has been taken straight from _the Hobbit_. Which would be super weird. Everything else has been going as it should, after all. Okay, not everything. Conversations were different as far as I remember. And then there has been me joining the fellowship... I really wish I had read the books a bit more recently. But no, I had to reread the_ Edge Chronicles_ instead. Great decision making, damnit.

Well, looks like everything I can do right now is to sit tight and wait.

I'm clutching the hilt of my sword tightly to stop my hands from shaking as I stare into our little camp fire. Having to use the blade for real... It's a horrifying thought. Even if it's just against orcs and wargs, it'd mean I have to kill stuff. And that's something I've ever had to do before. Sure, sparring with Boromir was fun and all, but having to put it to use here? I'd prefer to pass on that.

The howling is growing louder and by now it sounds like the wolves are circling around the stone wall. It's not very high, so they can probably jump it with ease. So we might get attacked from every angle even though the wall only has one entrance. That would suck.

I draw my sword and glance around. The glow on Glamdring is slowly spreading across the blade, but it's still faint. Good, at least the orcs are still relatively far away from our position.

The wargs, however, are not. I can see eyes glowing in the darkness all around us. Sometimes green, sometimes yellow, and sometimes even reddish. They blink now and then and disappear, only to reappear seconds later in a different spot. Plus the wind is now carrying loud growling and snarling to my ears.

And all the while we just sit here and wait for them to make the first move. It's amazing how calm the others are staying while I am shaking and sweating like crazy. I am trying to hide it, but it's highly unlikely it's working.

After what felt like hours, a massive, snarling warg pads into the circle. When the firelight falls onto it I can make out dirty gray fur, bulging muscles and burning yellow eyes. There is a scar running down one of its front legs and it seems to be missing one of its ears. It looks... evil, to say the least. And really fucking angry.

The warg stops at the very edge of the light our fire is casting, throws its head back and howls. Everywhere around me swords are drawn as people scramble to their feet. The noise must have woken up the others behind me, because a second later Gimli is standing next to me, ax in hand, and looking ready to kill some stuff. The hobbits are whispering, but I don't register what they are saying.

And I'm kind of frozen in place just starring at the warg. I don't want to end as dog food!

Gandalf jumps forward, staff in one hand, Glamdring in the other. He seems to grow while he stands there in front of the fire for a second. "Hark, dog of Sauron! Gandalf is here!" His voice is way louder and clearer than normal and the very ground seems to rumble as he speaks. It's seriously scary. "If you take one more step I shall burn off your fur and wrinkle up your hide from nuzzle to tail!" This is one of the moments were I'm glad Gandalf is on our side.

The warg cocks its head and watches the wizard with contempt. Maybe it's wondering if he is bluffing? Nah, it'd have to be completely crazy to even consider coming here while Gandalf is in his serious-wizard-mode.

The warg cowers down, then lungs forward with a snarl.

Before I can even move a muscle, an arrow zips past me and buries itself in the warg's forehead. The wolf lets out a whimper before it crashes to the floor with a solid thud. Its momentum causes the dead body to roll a few paces until it stops right at Gandalf's feet.

The wizard nudges the corps with his boot once. When it doesn't move, he nods to himself and returns to the fire.

Meanwhile the howling around us has stopped and the other wargs seem to retreat back into the darkness.

I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding. "Well, that was easy!" I sheath the sword and slump on the ground with a relieved laugh. Man, that could have gone so wrong...

"Do not say such things," Boromir warns from the other side of the fire. "No good comes from tempting fate." I just shrug. This isn't a horror movie and I would probably remember if there had been some battle before the Fellowship enters Moria, right?

We sit around the fire in silence. The hobbits are shifting uncomfortably, Gimli is mucking around with his ax and everyone else is just waiting for something to happen. I peer into the darkness beyond the stone wall, trying make out silhouettes or movement somewhere out there. But all I see is a deep, inky blackness. Clouds have covered the moon, making it impossible to see anything outside of the fire shine.

Now, that the imminent thread is gone, I feel my fatigue returning with all its might. Soon my eyes are dropping. I try to fight it, but to no avail. Who cares anyway, now that the wargs are gone...

I wake up when Gimli shakes my shoulder. "Get up, lass! Quick!"

"What's going on?" The dwarf offers me a hand which I grasp and pulls me to my feet with surprising strength. I take a quick look around. The whole camp is in turmoil. Swords are gleaming in the fire light, numerous arrows are sticking in the ground before Legolas and Gandalf is bellowing orders.

"Throw more wood onto the fire! Stand back to back!" The wizard orders. "Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin! To me!"

Outside of the stone circle, eyes are shining in the darkness and the howling and snarling has resumed, tenfold louder than last time. I yank out my own sword and take the position between Boromir and Gimli. And then the attack begins.

The wargs hop over the wall like gray shadows and dash forward. One leaps towards me and I barely manage to bring up my sword in time before it collides with me. The warg impales itself on the blade, but its sheer momentum and weight are enough to send both of us to the ground. The impact presses the air from my lungs. The warg growls and claws at my chest, shredding my cloak, but luckily the mail keeps its talons from doing damage to me.

My sword, however, has sunk up to the cross-guard into the warg's chest. I have to use all my strength to somehow hold up the hilt, because that's everything that keeps the warg's powerful yaws away my face right now. Sadly the creature is at least as heavy as I am. There is no way I can kick it off as long as I'm pinned to the ground like this. It snarls at me, spewing drool everywhere. Its stinking breath nearly makes me gag plus I can see all the ugly little details on its face: Beady green eyes with an evil stare, matted fur and a chewed off ear. And its fangs look really fucking sharp.

I don't want to end up as a snack, damnit!

"Guys!" I try to push the warg off, but it's too strong and way too heavy plus the strain is making my arms shake. "Help!"

While I'm still grappling with the warg, a sword cuts through the air and the wolf's neck barely missing my throat. Uncool, dude. The owner of the sword turns out to be Boromir. He delivers a swift kick to the warg's flank, rolling it off me, before turning to face down another one.

Well, that was _way_ too close. I quickly get up again and wipe some of the blood from my face. Man, Hollywood is so irresponsible for making battles look clean even though all kinds of limbs and whatnot are being chopped of. Seriously, screw these guys! There is blood everywhere!

We are still under attack and the wargs just keep coming. It's crazy. Boromir takes out one directly next to me by cleaving its head in, while I give another one a deep cut to the flank. The warg keeps going none the less, but Gimli finishes it off with one quick strike of his battleax. Two others fall to elven arrows shot by Legolas. We are keeping the wargs at bay, but their sheer mass is still slowly making us lose ground. If it continues like this we'll be standing back to back rather quickly.

I stab and slash at whatever comes close to me wounding as many wargs as I can and even finishing off one, but we are still being pushed back.

Suddenly Gandalf steps forward. I only notice it from the corner of my eye, but he seems to grow again. Plus there is a glow to him that can't possibly come from our campfire. The wargs back up a few paces in confusion, yellow eyes fixed on the wizard. Gandalf shouts something in Elvish and rises his staff. A green flame explodes from the smoldering remains of our fire causing the wolves to back up even more. Their formally ferocious snarling turns into whimpering as if Gandalf had burned them already or something.

But the wizard is nowhere near done with his trick. He bends down, picks up a burning piece of wood and throws it high up into the air. Sparks and flying embers rain down on us, as the fire leaps to the trees. They ignite in a colorful burst of flames and send green and blue sparks sailing across the campsite, which is suddenly as bright as day. Some land on the wargs setting their fur aflame almost instantly. An arrow of Legolas catches fire in the air and kills the biggest warg with a clean headshot.

That's too much for the wolves. Whimpering and with their tails between their legs they turn around and disappear into the night as quick as they came.

As soon as the last warg has leaped over the wall, the fire on the trees begins to die down. Gandalf shrinks back down to his normal size as well and heaves a sigh, while the light fades until there are only embers left where our campfire was.

I lower my sword with shaking hands. Now, that the fight is over, my breathing and heartrate are slowly returning to normal. Sadly, the same goes for my senses as well. The smells of burned fur and flesh, and blood are hanging in the air and I have to concentrate really hard to not simply throw up where I stand.

Well, looks like that was my first real battle in Middle Earth… and someone had to save my arse already. I managed to get away unscathed though, which is good.

I turn to Boromir who is busy cleaning his sword on the fur of a dead warg. "Thanks, by the way. That was super close."

Boromir just shrugs. "It is a long and dangerous journey ahead of us. I am sure there will come a moment where you can return the favor." I nod, barely able to look at him. His gaze flashes to the gory sword I'm clutching. "You should clean that, by the way."

I nod, still unable to look him in the eye. "Yeah… yeah, right." I quickly turn away and kneel down next to another warg to wipe the blood off my blade. Even thinking about betraying a friend like this makes me feel sick in my stomach. It's not like I have a choice in the matter, though. After all the plot has to go as it's supposed to and for that I'll have to let Lurz do his job… Man, this sucks.

But if Boromir stayed alive… Denethor wouldn't go mad and get himself killed. If he was around when Aragorn arrives in Gondor to claim the throne, it could turn out bad for us. Like, civil war bad. After all Denethor seems to enjoy being powerful and all that. Giving away his power to a random ranger won't be too high on his priority list. Plus the hobbits need to be taken to Fangorn or we'll be missing a bunch of Ents later on.

Still, just letting someone die is treason in my book and this guy is one of my best friends!

With a sigh I rise again and sheath the clean blade. Luckily there is still time for me to formulate a plan before we get to Amon Hen.

Now, that the wargs are gone, and we save for the moment, I can feel the exhaustion of the past few days catching up with me. It is decided that Legolas should take the watch, so I stagger over to the charred trees and spread out my bedroll hoping to get at least a few hours of sleep before we run for Moria.

Aragorn checks if anyone was insured during the attack but a few scratches and minor burns are everything that happened. I'll probably have a bruise or two from being knocked over, but that's fine. And most of us will probably need new clothing once we make it to Lórien because there is blood everywhere on our stuff. It's disgusting, really.

After that the camp falls silent and everyone but Legolas lays down to catch at least a bit of sleep before we set out for Moria.

Even though I am exhausted, sleep won't come. Partly because of the battle, partly because Boromir's words are still bouncing around my skull. Sure, saving him might screw up canon. But there is also a chance it won't. It would be a giant risk to take… but still. And is there someone else I could possibly safe? Théoden maybe?

But the risk…screwing up would mean death or worse for all of Middle Earth. There is no world where a minuscule chance of success is worth taking risks as big as these. Heck, in theory it would me my duty to kick the guy down a cliff myself if something went wrong just to ensure that the plot advances as it has to.

Maybe I should just stay in Lórien so that the Butterfly Effect won't screw us over later…

I blink at the gleaming stars far above us. Here they seem to be so very close. Like I could reach out with one hand and pluck them from the skies... Okay, that was weird. I seriously need some rest.

I let out a low sigh. Knowing my luck, saving Boromir would probably spell doom for all of us. Or worse. Yeah, it'd probably be worse.

I'm not going take any chances here. The last one I took nearly got me eaten by a warg, after all.

And with that thought I drift off into sleep.

**Some parts are kind of rough, but I have no idea how to fix that right now. Might come back to that later...**

**Thanks for reviewing, faving, following and reading! You are awesome. And special thanks to somecleverphrase for proofreading the first chapter.**

**DefenestratedCountess****: I'm glad it made you laugh! Enjoy the rest of the story :D**


	9. Gandalf versus Public Key Cryptography

**Chapter 8: Gandalf versus Public Key Cryptography**

_I'm pinned to the floor by a giant warg. It snarls at me, its yellow fangs only inches away from my face. I can feel its hot, stinking breath against my face. Green fire is burning in its eyes and I can feel its claws boring through the links of my mail. Well, shit. I'm using every ounce of strength available to push the hilt of my sword upward, hoping to get the warg off me that way, but it's not working. The warg is simply too heavy._

_Its yaws are opening even further as it gets ready to bite me. I see every disgusting detail, even the remains of its last meal - or its last few meals for that matter, dripping saliva..._

I wake up with a start. My heart is racing, I'm breathing hard and my tunic is clammy and cold from sweat. For a second I don't know where I am but then I notice the charred trees and the morning sun on my face. Right. I'm in camp with the rest of the fellowship. The wargs are dead and we are fine.

Wiping a few damp strands of hair from my face I look around. My breathing is slowing down gradually as the terror from that nightmare fades away. All the corpses from last night's battle are gone. The only thing left suggesting that there has been fighting going on here are some arrows sticking in the ground and burn marks everywhere. That's kind of weird, actually. It makes me wonder if the wargs were even real or just some creepy illusions?

That would be seriously fucked up.

Everyone else is still asleep. After not having rested in who knows how long we decided to kind of skip guard duty for the rest of the night. At least everyone will be rested up for the way through Moria this way. Plus Gandalf thought we'd be safe for the night after defeating the wargs in such a spectacular matter. Looks like he's been right.

My breathing has slowed down to a normal rate by now, but there is still no way I'm going back to sleep, so I sit up, yawn and wipe some stray hair out of my face. Again. During my time in Middle Earth it has gotten rather long and annoying, not to mention greasy. Seriously, the first thing I'll do in Lórien is take a bath.

I move over to the remains of our campfire and wait for the others to awaken. It's still early in the morning, probably just half an hour after sunrise and the land surrounding our hill is covered in a thin veil of mist, making it look like the hill we are camping on is an island. Between running from wargs and nearly freezing to death it's kind of hard to appreciate the beauty of this world.

Aragorn is the first one to actually get up. I greet him with a nod when he sits down on the opposite side of the fire, tired look on his face. "So..." I have given him a few moments to notice the missing corpses and formulate a theory. Time to find out what he thinks about all of that. "What do you think happened to the wargs?"

The ranger remains silent for a couple more seconds while he takes another look at the battlefield. "I do not know. It might be a plot by the enemy to make us doubt our sanity."

I nod slowly. If it hadn't been for my shredded cloak and the throbbing bruises on my back I might have thought the battle from last night to be some kind of illusion or whatever, but like this? Not really. "Gandalf is right. It's seriously time for us to get out of here for a while." Imagining that servants of the enemy managed to sneak up this close to our camp to get rid of a couple of corpses is rather unsettling. And it's weird they didn't attack us while we were so incredibly vulnerable.

"Yes." Aragorn sighs. "It seems like we no longer have a chance but to take the route through Moria. I had hoped it would not be necessary." He falls silent again. I stare into the still smoldering embers of the fire and try to recall what I know about Bookverse Moria. Sadly it's not much. Sending me to Movieverse Middle Earth would have been too easy, right?

When the other members of the fellowship get up there is quite a bit of confusion about the suspiciously absent wargs, but in the end no one was too sad about having breakfast while not having to look at decapitated corpses. Except maybe for Gandalf. He seems to be even more unsettled by the whole ordeal than Aragorn is.

"We have to reach the Gates of Moria today," he explains, once we are done eating. "Spending another night out here would be foolish. The wolfs will most likely return and in greater numbers or with allies by their side. I do not believe that we can defend ourselves against such an attack." His eyes move from face to face as he gives each of us a serious stare. "I know you are afraid of the Mines, but believe me. It is the only way left for us now. Aragorn and I shall lead you."

This time nobody complains, even though Legolas' eyes are pretty much saying 'oh god why'. People all around the fire are nodding with gray faces and tense expressions. I guess all of us are still too shaken from last night. Especially the hobbits. They look horribly pale but are doing their best to seem fearless. In a weird way that attack was a reality check for all of us, showing us how dangerous and potentially deadly this quest will actually be and rubbing it in.

Ten minutes later everything is packed up and we are ready to get going once more. It's still like twenty miles to the Gates so we really have to hurry if we want to make it to the Lake of the Watcher before sundown. And hell, I'm so not looking forward to that part.

We walk throughout the day while the sun slowly climbs the sky. The landscape isn't changing much, so the first part is pretty boring. We are, however, making good time. Gandalf and Legolas have taken the lead while Aragorn is going last. Now and then I can see him scan our surroundings with a frown. Looks like Gandalf is expecting our pursuers to catch up faster than he has been letting on at breakfast.

We come across an old looking road around midday. Or at least it was a road once. Now it's more like a bunch of cracked and overgrown stones and a couple of broken statures here and there. We sit down below one that might have been an elven noble or something once for lunch. Its details have been washed away be the rain long ago, but it still looks pretty imposing between the dry trees and ugly stones here. There is also a nearly dried out river bed running parallel to the road. It must have contained a broad stream once, but all that's left now is a sad trickle of water. Gandalf called it Sirannon when Pippin asked him about it but even the wizard doesn't know what happened to it.

I have a theory on that topic, but it's probably better if I keep that to myself for the time being. A joke on global warming would have probably been lost on my companions anyway, so I keep that to myself as well. What a waste.

We move along the road towards the mountains. Gandalf uses the time to tell us a bit about the history of Eregion and how its Elves built the street to trade with the Dwarves of Moria in ages long past. Gimli just huffs when the wizard mentions that and switches focus to the broken stone tiles under his feet. "The Gates of Moria have once been open for everyone," Gandalf explains and I can't help but notice a hint of sadness in his voice. Was he around when all that happened? I know he is a Maia and that he is ancient, but how long exactly has he been in Middle Earth? He tells us how the Gates were closed during Sauron's first rise to power and how the password was lost when the Dwarves of Moria died long ago.

Well, looks like we are going to rediscover it in a few hours. But seriously, the riddle is not that complicated. How comes no one has figured it out since the Second Age? And does that make the Dwarves the inventors of Public Key Cryptography? At least in a way? It's different in a way, but the underlying principle is the same, after all.

We take another short break during the afternoon, but apart from that we spend pretty much the whole day walking. And it looks like it was worth it. Now that the sun is setting we have reached a wall of rock. The rivulet that once was the mighty Sirannon is dripping out of a crack in the stone.

Yeah, looks like we made it to the Lake of the Watcher. It can't be far to the Gates then. The old street is taking a sharp turn south here, but Gandalf makes no attempt to follow it. Instead he says: "This is the place I was looking for. Long ago there was a shallow valley with a river running through it behind this wall. What has happened since then to make it dry out I can not say, for it has been long since I walked these lands. But let us find out."

Dried out.

Suuure.

Gandalf points at a part of the wall north of us. "There were steps carved into the stone once which one could use to enter the valley. Let us hope they are still intact for the Elf Road takes a quite time consuming detour south and we might not have that much time to spare."

Right. I glance over my shoulder. The sun is already close to the horizon and we still have a bit of distance to cover. Getting caught here in the open would be really bad for us, after all. Last night was way too close already.

We turn north and move through the wild as fast as possible, considering the hobbits are lagging behind a bit. Gimli and Gandalf have taken the lead. Looks like the dwarf can hardly wait to see the Walls of Moria.

The steps are still where Gandalf remembered them. They are hidden under a ton of moss and when I climb them they feel well trodden by countless pairs of heavy boots. Getting Bill the Pony up there takes us nearly half an hour, but we manage it in the end. No wonder Aragorn doesn't want to take him into the mines. It would take us ages to maneuver the pony through the narrow hallways and up the many stairs. Plus feeding it would be flat out impossible.

Right now we are standing on top of the wall and are staring at what Gandalf described as a valley. Only that it isn't a valley anymore, but a great, dark lake. There is no reflection on it. Like, at all. Not us, not the sunset behind us or the mountains in front of us. There are just the ominous black depths starring back at us. If it hadn't been for the ripples in the surface it would have looked like looking down into a black abyss or something. Weird as hell. And the whole thing smells like rotten fish. So this is where the Watcher lives. What a shitty home.

Well, Gollum would like it here, I guess.

I slowly edge away from the icky water. Knowing what's in there there's no chance I'll touch that stuff. Seriously, if Middle Earth had radioactive waste this would be the cliche spot to get rid of it.

"Now we know what happened to the Stream," Boromir comments, a look of disgust firm on his face. "What a vile place."

"Gandalf?" Pippin glances up at the wizard from his spot next to Frodo. "Say, do we have to swim through...that?" He points at the greenish water. Sam, who is standing next to him turns a few shades paler from just thinking of doing that. I swear I'll rage quit this mission should Gandalf insist on doing that.

The wizard chuckles. "No, my dear Pippin. I believe there is a way leading around this lake further north. Follow me for I do not wish to spend the night on the shore of this place. The water here looks rather unhealthy to me."

"No shit, Sherlock," I mutter under my breath as we get going again. Gandalf leads us north just as he said. The way we are taking is narrow and barely wide enough for one person, plus the stones are extremely slippery and covered in some kind of algae. I do my best to keep as much of a distance to the lake as possible. Not just because stirring up the Watcher too early would be fatal for us, but also because taking a dip in this water would be really fucking disgusting.

"These are the western walls of Moria," Gandalf explains and points at the pale cliffs on the other side of the lake. "The door we will use to enter the Mines is hidden somewhere over there." There isn't much to see. Only rock, some crippled trees and more rock. Meh. But I guess it wouldn't be much of a hidden door otherwise.

Merry behind me is wondering about the same thing out loud, cuing Aragorn to talk about dwarven doors being invisible while closed. Walking around the lake takes quite a while. Watching the movies I never realized how massive the lake actually is. Sure, the way we are taking seems to be only about a kilometer long, but from what I can see the lake is stretching way south.

Once in a while a splashing sound breaks the silence mostly followed by a curse. The path we are taking is pretty slippery and some of the rocks we have to climb over are literally covered in slime, so it's no wonder that people slip occasionally. Still, what if the Watcher wakes up earlier than necessary? I glance over at the dark water, half expecting to see tentacles slithering out of it, but there is nothing. The lake lies there in perfect stillness.

After about an hour of climbing and skidding about we finally make it to the eastern shore. It's luckily a lot broader and turns out to be a slightly sloping rocky beach. Gandalf hesitates only for a second to give the cliff face a quick once over, before he walks over to a bare looking spot flanked with ancient looking holly trees. They are a lot taller than any I have seen here so far.

"This is where the elven road of Hollin ends," the wizard announces while he brushes over the wall with his right hand.

"What's he doing, Merry?" Pippin whispers next to me.

"I don't know, Pip," mutters the other hobbit. "Be quiet and listen."

I bite back a grin. You guys will be surprised once he's done. Gandalf ignores the short exchange between the hobbits and continues his explanation. "Holly was the emblem of Eregion, so they planted it here to mark the borders of their territory." He whispers some words under his breath before stepping away from the wall. "We should see it any moment now..."

"See what?" Pippin is starring at the wall with a frown. "That's just a plain old wall. Where is that door you talked about?"

I glance over my shoulder. The sun has set already and the first stars have come out. Going around the lake seems to have taken longer than I originally thought... but at least we won't have to wait for the Ithildin or whatever the stuff is called. Gandalf grumbles something before taking a step or two backwards.

A wolf howls somewhere in the distance. The sound sends an icy chill down my spine as I spin around, but the path we have taken is deserted.

"You should get ready to enter the Mines," Gandalf says calmly. "Sam, I fear we cannot take Bill with us. Unload him and take only what you truly need with you."

"But..." Sam's gaze flickers between Bill and Gandalf. "We can't leave him here! Not with all these wolves." While Gandalf and Sam start a discussion about Bill's fate, I turn back to the wall where the door should have been. I know the Pony will be fine, after all.

The moon has fully risen by now and is shining on the wall. "Guys, check this out!"

As I speak shimmering silver lines appear on the rough stone. It takes a moment but soon they form the familiar shape of the Moria Gates right between the two ancient holly trees. The Ithildin is shining like silver as the thin lines slowly expand to form elvish script over the doors.

This is one of the moments where I seriously regret not having a camera with me. Even with the disgusting lake in the background the gate looks beautiful and makes me wonder what this place might have been like before everything went down the drain.

"What is that?" Boromir gestures at the silver lines glowing on the cliff face.

"Ithildin," Gandalf says and carefully traces one of the lines with his hand. "It mirrors only the light of the moon and stars. But only for those who know how to awaken it. The words needed for that have been long since lost." He looks at the gate, before reading the inscription out loud to us.

"But you knew the words," Pippin says with a triumphant grin. "So you probably know how to open the gate too, right?"

"Obviously," Gandalf grumbles. "And no." That answer earns him a couple of shocked looks. Aragorn is the only one to remain completely calm. Well, maybe it's just a trick of the weird light here, but I believe a small knowing smile played over the ranger's face for a second. It's gone as fast as it appeared, so I can't be sure.

"And what are you going to do now?" A hint of desperation has crept into Pippins voice as he asks this. Not surprising, considering how bad this situation must look to everyone else.

The wizard turns around, beard and eyebrows bristling. "Use your head to break down these doors, Peregrin Took! And if that doesn't open them and I have some respite from foolish questions, I shall try to find the opening words." Gandalf sighs with frustration while Pippin backs away slowly. Poor little guy. "I should be able to open it with just a few tries." And with that Gandalf starts his brute force attack on the Gate.

While the wizard recites elvish spells to the Gate, everyone else splits off into groups. Sam, Aragorn and Frodo free Bill of the bags and all the other stuff we put on him. Merry and Pippin sit at the shore a few steps away and Legolas and Gimli are arguing about something. I use the time to dig through my pack and get rid of the stuff I won't need anymore. I didn't have much stuff in the first place so this doesn't take long. The stuff I leave behind is warm clothing for the most part.

Once I'm done I walk over to where Sam is saying his goodbyes to Bill with tears in his eyes. Aragorn is meanwhile whispering into the Pony's ear.

"Don't worry. He'll be fine." I rub the Pony's neck before Aragorn sends him off into the night.

Sam sighs. "Strider said that, too. How can you be so sure with the wolves out there?" Frodo places a hand on his best friend's shoulder and offers him a sad smile.

"Well..." I shrug. I can hardly tell him that the pony survives in the books or that the wolves are only after his master, after all. "Aragorn blessed him, right? Believe it or not, but that stuff seems to actually work. Plus Bill is stronger than he looks."

Sam doesn't look convinced at all, but nods non the less. Aragorn places a hand on his other shoulder as we watch Bill trod away into the pale moon light. Once the pony is out of sight, we turn around and go through the saddlebags. In the end we only split the food and get rid of almost everything else.

Meanwhile Gandalf is still trying out different formulas and spells to open the door. Well, I guess this is going to take quite a while. Let's hope the door doesn't delete all data after the nth failed try. That would seriously suck. Gandalf finishes the pass phrase he's been muttering with a sigh, tosses his staff to the side and sits down on a rock where he continues grumbling into his beard. Nice rage quit, bro.

Bored as hell I look around the shore. There is not much going on. Gimli and Legolas are still fighting and Frodo and Sam are standing in front of the Gate and seem to be studying the inscription while everyone else is sitting or standing around at the shore. It would be boring as hell if it wasn't for the wargs howling somewhere in the distance.

_Plop._

The sound of something hitting the water makes me look up. Aragorn seems to be stopping Pippin from throwing another stone. I can't hear what he is saying, but it's probably something along the lines of 'don't disturb the water'. Looks like stuff is about to get serious. One look at the inky lake confirms my suspicion: far out circular waves are forming. It's highly unlikely the hobbit caused these.

I nudge Boromir who has sat down next to me in the side and point at the waves. There is no harm in warning them, right? "See that? I have a bad feeling about it." I take a step back from the water. Seriously, knowing what is creeping towards us doesn't make waiting here any better. Not in the slightest. I reach for my sword just to be prepared.

Boromir gives me his are-you-serious look. "You are easy to scare." He glances at the fading waves and frowns. "The halfling must have startled up a fish. You need not worry." Yeah, sure. He doesn't sound too convinced himself and the hand resting on the hilt of his sword isn't helping either.

"Seriously, when I look at the water I don't want to meet anything that lives in there." I shudder. "Even if it's just some goldfish... They'd probably be half a meter long with giant teeth and spit super strong venom. Or something like that."

That description earns me an _extremely_ creeped out look from Boromir. Oops. "Do such horrible creatures exist in your homeland?" Note to self: Don't crack _Pokémon_ jokes.

I'm about to answer, but Gandalf interrupts me. "Of course, of course!" I turn around to see the wizard getting up. He grabs his staff and stands in front of the Gates. "It is a riddle. The inscription does not read 'Speak, friend, and enter', but 'say friend and enter'!" He lets out a low chuckle. I shoulder my pack and make sure my sword is easy to reach as everyone gets ready to enter the mines. "Ridiculously easy once one knows the answer. _Mellon!_"

The word hasn't even faded when the outline of the doors begins to appear. A low rumble fills the air as the massive gate slides open in a way quieter fashion than one would expect. There are no hinges or anything. Just two giant stone plates that form the door's wings. I try to make out features in the space beyond, but to no avail. It's pitch-black in Moria.

Nervous glances are exchanged as Gandalf walks towards the entrance. "_Mellon_ is the elvish word for friend," the wizard explains. "A riddle too easy for a scholar in these dark times. But come. We have lost too much time already."

Right. I take a deep breath and try to clamp down on the anxiety rising in my chest. The Watcher should show up any moment now... I follow close behind Gimli as we walk through the Gate, doing my best to remain calm and somehow keep from running ahead. Darkness surrounds me almost immediately once I've walked through the great stone gate.

Suddenly Frodo lets out a surprised scream. I whirl around and draw my sword to see the hobbit being dragged off towards the shore by a single tentacle wrapped around his ankle, a look of pure terror on his face as he tries to grab and hold onto something. The offending tentacle is slimy and pale green with these cliché sucker cups and everything.

"Mister Frodo!" Sam sprints forward and starts hacking away at the tentacle. Well, that much about stealth, I guess. Gimli, Aragorn and Boromir get moving to help the two hobbits, when the lake suddenly explodes in a mass of tentacles. Slime, water and green stinking blood are splashing everywhere as the massive creature fights to get its hands... tentacles on Frodo.

I hesitate for a second before I too dash forward and start slashing away at the tentacles that try to make it through the Gate. Some are as thin as my fingers, others are the size of a tree trunk. Blood is splattering everywhere and a horrible stench is filling the air. Seriously, why do the monsters here have to stink so badly? An arrow zips past me, but I don't pay much attention to it. Instead I concentrate on swinging my sword at the thick arm I'm trying to fend off. The thing is putting up quite a fight and I can't seem to get proper edge alignment against it so my attacks aren't doing much damage.

Suddenly the arm takes a swing at me. I duck in order to avoid the attack and it crashes into a couple of pillars at full speed. A loud crash echoes through the cave as the impact shatters the stone and sends debris and dust flying everywhere. The arm, however, withdraws finally. One less. Nice.

Somewhere behind me Gandalf is barking orders, but they are hardly audible over the sounds of battle and all the splashing. I slice through an other tentacle as Gimli and the other guys turn tail and come sprinting towards the gate. Looks like we are retreating. "We have Frodo! Into the mine, lass," the dwarf shouts. Right. Aragorn is behind him with Frodo in his arms and Boromir and a blood splattered Sam hot on his heels.

"To the stairs! Quick!" Gandalf and the hobbits have already made it about halfway up the massive stairwell. Shit, how are they so fast? I can barely make out their shapes in the darkness as I sprint through the entrance hall side by side with the others. Behind us the Watcher lets out a roar I would not have thought possible for a squid. A low rumble runs through the room. I don't even have to turn around to know what's going on: the Watcher is trying to bring down the cave. I sprint the last few meters to the stairs and run up the first few steps, taking two at a time. The rumbling is getting louder and dust and small stones are raining from the ceiling.

I turn around just in time to see the Watcher lifting its massive body from the lake to smash the doors shut with a deafening crash. The ground shakes as the cliff side outside comes crashing down, but the sound is muffled thanks to the thick wall. And just like that we are trapped inside the pitch-black hole that is Moria. I slowly breathe a sigh of relive, still trembling and panting from the battle. "Is everyone okay?"

"Frodo?" Aragorn asks in a low voice, but the acoustics of the hall amplify it to a surprising level. Oh crap, I hope the orcs and whatever else lives here haven't already heard us. Man, that would suck if they showed up early.

"Yes..." The hobbit sounds shaken. Poor guy. Thanks to that stupid ring he's always the one to get into the deepest shit. "I am fine." He doesn't sound it though.

"Well then," Gandalf mutters. He must be standing somewhere further up the stairwell. "Let me get some light..." He starts ruffling through his pack, probably to get that weird crystal thingy out.

Gimli uses the chance to get in his normal dialog. "Soon, Master elf, you will see the famed hospitality of the dwarves. Roaring fires, mead, ripe meat-" At this point Gandalf has found what he was looking for and the tip of his staff starts emitting a faint light. Said light reveals the tons of skeletons and rusty weapons strewn out everywhere on the floor, all covered in cobweb. It also reveals the looks of horror on the faces of most of the fellowship followed by different versions of 'Oh crap'. "Oh no," Gimli whispers, followed by a few words in his own tongue I don't understand.

"Well, shit," I mutter and back away from a long dead orc, only to nearly trip over the leg of a different corpse. This is so freaking disgusting and sad. Poor Gimli... Trying to visit your cousin only to find everyone dead. I lower my head as I realize that these skeletons are no longer just props on a screen but real dead people.

Meanwhile swords are drawn and Boromir brings his 'This is no mine' line. He is ignored though because most of us are preoccupied with checking the blades of Glamdring, Sting and Anduril. I breath a sigh of relief as they stay dark.

"We should have gone through the Gap of Rohan," Boromir grumbles loud enough for all of us to hear. Get over it, man. Seriously. We have been over this more than enough times.

"Too late for that now," I mutter.

"Indeed. Now we have to face the long darkness of the mines." Gandalf takes a quick look around, before sighing. "Let us take a short break at the top of these stairs."

We make our way up the stairwell and past a ton of corpses. There is not much left of most of them. Just bones, some hair, a ton of cobwebs and the occasional orc arrow. It's really fucking creepy, like walking through a haunted house or something only that it's real. Who were these guys? What were their stories? We'll never know.

We stop once we reach the very top of the stairs. It's luckily clear of corpses, so we sit down silently. I dig through my pack for some bread and dried meat. I am so looking forward to Lórien... after nearly three weeks of living off of this stuff some real food would be great.

"So... what was that creature out there?" Frodo sounds surprisingly calm for someone who nearly fell victim to a giant hentai monster a few minutes ago. But that is probably the hobbit's resistance to evil speaking, I guess.

"I do not know precisely," Gandalf admits much to everyone's surprise. "It seemed to be an ancient evil from the elder days that crept out or was driven out from under the mountains by something else. Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things in the depths of the world than goblins."

Hearing stuff like this while sitting in a tiny light bubble in the middle of a giant, dark hall has a way of creeping you out really badly. I glance forward, but there is nothing to see apart from some rough features of a couple of tunnel entrances. I move closer to the light, hand still on my sword. Screw this place, I wanna go to Lórien!

"The depths of the world," Boromir grumbles sarcastically next to me. "And that is where we are going against my wishes."

I just shrug. "It's better than wolves and giant squids, if you ask me. Likely death is better than certain death."

Boromir sighs. "Probably."

We get going shortly after that exchange. The darkness is making my spidey senses tingle so I make sure to stay somewhere at the front of the group. Aragorn has taken the very back together with Boromir while Gimli and Gandalf have taken the lead. The hobbits seem to be sticking closely together and Legolas has fallen into step beside me.

Moving through the mines is strange. Even though they were built by dwarves it feels like we are walking through the home of a giant. The ceilings are way higher than they have to be to accommodate dwarves – especially in some of the halls we pass through. Looking up I can't make out anything but featureless darkness.

But we spend most of our time walking down narrow corridors. There are doors and other corridors lined up left and right, but I rarely get to look at the rooms behind them. If this place wasn't so freaking creepy and dangerous it'd probably be super interesting to explore it and to look into these rooms that no one has seen in god knows how many years.

The mines must be massive. I mean I did know they were massive before we got here, but it's just now that I realize _how_ massive they actually are. We'll be spending three days marching through this dark labyrinth and we'll see only a small fraction of it... how long must it have taken to build all this?

Now and then we come across crags in the floor. Most of them are pretty small, but sometimes they span over two meters. One especially big crag forces us to stop and figure out a strategy. What makes it even worse is the sound of flowing water from far beneath us. In the end it is decided that the hobbits will be thrown across and caught by Aragorn on the other side. The ranger makes the jump with ease and Legolas follows suit.

Boromir then proceeds to hurl the hobbits across. Sam needs some convincing before he is willing to get thrown, but apart from that everything goes well. Gimli is next. The dwarf goes for the jump - of course - and barely makes it. Aragorn has to grab his arm to prevent him from loosing his balance. At least it wasn't the beard. Gandalf is next, surprising everyone with a quite graceful jump without needing any assistance whatsoever.

I'm up next. The fact that our light source is already on the other side makes calculating the jump a bit more difficult, but it's still a pretty easy jump. And like hell am I being outdone by a million year old dude! I clear the crag easy, even overshooting quite a bit. Boromir follows me with ease despite all the armor he is wearing and we are off again.

Gandalf seems to know what he's doing. The wizard keeps leading us down what seems to have been a broad road once. There are tunnels splitting off on either side, but he ignores them. I try to make out what lies in the dark behind the decorated arches, but Gandalf is moving too fast and his staff is too far away to illuminate them. All I can see are shifting shadows and more darkness.

Man, this place is giving me a terrible _Amnesia_ vibe... At least here's no weird ass goo dripping from the ceiling. I glance upwards, but the ceiling is too high for the faint light of the staff to reach it. Looks like playing that stuff back home has made me way too paranoid. Damn it.

A couple hours later we still haven't made camp. I get that everyone wants to clear Moria as fast as possible, but by now it's blatantly obvious that the hobbits won't be able to keep going for much longer. I'm moving on autopilot as well, to be honest. The adrenaline from battling the Kraken has worn off long ago and at this point I'm simply too tired to feel scared of the mines. Plus the architecture tends to get old really quickly when you can't see jack shit of it.

Suddenly the fellowship stops. I nearly collide with Legolas, which tears me from my daze. Well, then. The room we are standing in looks vaguely familiar: cracked stones on the floor, a few orc skeletons are scattered everywhere, three tunnels leading east... Okay, I know what this is. It's the place Gandalf has no memory of. That means we are finally taking a break!

While everyone piles into the room Gandalf has already gone ahead to inspect the three tunnels leading out of it. We wait patiently as the wizard inspects the gateways one after another until he finally turns around with a sigh and waves Gimli over. The two proceed to talk in low voices, giving me some time to take a look at the tunnels myself: one is going upward, one is going downward and one is continuing horizontally, yes, there is no doubt this is the place.

I sit down together with the rest of the fellowship and dig around my pack for some food while we wait for the wizard to choose a path.

Gimli returns after a couple of minutes, but Gandalf takes a little more time before he finally decides on something. He eyes us wearily for a couple of seconds and starts talking. "I have no memory of this place." He sighs, leaning heavily on his staff. "But it is late and I am tired - though not as much as some of you, I suppose. Let us rest and maybe the next morning will reveal our path." Yeah, right. For all I know it could be morning right now, but whatever.

Gandalf watches as everyone collects their stuff and stumbles to their feet. "There is a guardroom not far from here. We will have to backtrack for a few minutes, but it is probably the safest place to spend the... To sleep in."

"Well, what are waiting for?" Pippin asks surprisingly cheerfully. "Let's go!"

Gandalf was right. After only a few minutes of walking we are standing in front of a stone gateway leading into a dark room. The stone door must have been torn down long ago, but its pieces are still lying on the floor, covered in ancient looking dust. While everyone else seems to be slightly unsure about entering the room, Merry and Pippin aren't giving a shit. They are about to blindly storm into the darkness, but Aragorn manages to grab their packs at the very last moment and drags them back.

While the ranger lectures the hobbits about the dangers of blindly running into stuff, everyone else files into the guardroom. Carefully of course. And it's a good thing we did because there's a round hole in the middle of the floor. Looks like our dear Fool of a Took would have thrown himself in if Aragorn hadn't held him and Merry back. Apart from that the room is empty. There are some old shelves on the walls, but most of them are empty. There are only some rusty cooking pots and what seem to be a few rotting stacks of parchment left, but that's about it. At least there aren't any skeletons in here... Would have been creepy as hell to sleep next to a bunch of dead guys.

Gandalf has leaned his staff against the wall from where it's now spreading a faint glow across the room. Glamdring is standing next to it, but the sword's edges are dark. Good. The wizard himself is busy setting up his sleeping spot pretty close to the door. Well, that's a good idea... Except the 'by the door' part. I proceed to set up my bedroll at the wall opposite of the door. It's probably a good spot, considering Boromir and I have tonight's first watch and I can keep an eye on both the well and the door from-

A silent '_plop'_ lets me look up from what I had been doing. It's a weird sound strangely distorted and echoing from great depth. Welp, that can only mean one thing...

When I turn around Pippin is laying flat on his belly next to the well. Looks like he dropped a stone or something in there. Goddamnit, dude. "What was that?" Gandalf snaps in a low voice and whirls around. His burning eyes find Pippin on the floor and he sighs heavily as he makes the connection. "Fool of a Took! This is no hobbit walk. Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"

Gandalf is about to turn away again when another sound floats out of the depths. And this time it draws the attention of absolutely everyone. Hands reach for swords and within the fraction of a second everyone is ready to fight for their very lives.

_Boom._

Pippin, who has sat up by now, glances up at Gandalf, genuine fear is his eyes. "But that wasn't me!"

_Boom. Boom._

So much about stealth, I guess.

_Boom._

**Thanks to everyone else for faving, following and of course reading!**

**TMI Fairy: I'm glad you enjoy the story! I fixed the problems you pointed out, so feel free to check out the updated chapters.**

**Stormrunner74: Sounds like a plan! We'll see what happens :)**

**Stardust67: Thanks! I'm glad you like it.**


	10. Where are my Pokéballs?

**Chapter 9: Where are my Pokéballs?**

Once again drumbeats are echoing out of the well. They are quieter this time around and seem come from farther away then the last set, but they still send an icy chill down my spine. Pippin backs away from the well, an expression of pure terror on his pale face.

I'm half expecting to hear the sound of screeching voices and hurried footsteps in the corridor outside, but nothing happens. The only sounds are the breathing of my companions and a faint dribble of water, as we wait for something to happen. I mean, I know we won't be attacked until later, but part of me is still super paranoid about all of this. What if the orcs here decide that they are tired of waiting or something?

No one dares to move, until Merry finally breaks the tension. "What was that?" The hobbit's words are just a whisper, but they still feel way too loud right now. He too has backed away from the well and is clutching his tiny sword with both hands.

"Signals," Aragorn finally breathes. Even though he's trying his best to sound calm, the worry in his voice is still clearly noticeable. Pippin has turned even paler at this point. Poor guy...

No one mentions it, but all of us know who has been sending these signals. Various glances at Glamdring prove it, but the elvish blade is staying mercifully dark.

We wait for another half hour, but when no other signals are sent, most of the fellowship go to sleep. Well, except for Boromir and me. We are on watch duty tonight and after what just happened I'm feeling pretty paranoid about it. Thankfully Gandalf has left Glamdring leaning against the wall, so the sword is now serving as some kind of Goblin early-warning system for us. Its edges have remained dark, but I still can't help but glance at it every few minutes.

Right now I'm sitting next to Boromir on my bedroll, back against the wall, starring into the darkness of the corridor outside with the flat of my sword resting on my knees. It has been a while since the last hushed conversation between the members of the fellowship ended and since then nothing has happened. I'm listening to the sounds of their breaths and the ever present dribbling from some far off stream, when something outside captures my attention.

A slight movement in the shadows. Hell, I'm not even sure if it's real or just my paranoid, tired brain messing with me. I sit up a bit straighter and stare into the darkness with wide eyes, but to no avail. A quick glance at Glamdring reveals that whatever I saw wasn't a goblin, for it's still completely dark. With a sigh I lean back against the wall, one hand gripping the hilt of my sword tightly. It would suck so much if we got attacked now. But since Boromir hasn't reacted either, it's probably just the darkness playing tricks on me.

Minutes pass and I calm down a little... Well, until two faintly glowing orbs appear right outside the doorway. I manage to stifle a scream of surprise and stare right back at the pale, unblinking eyes, frozen with panic.

Shit, what to do? I know Gollum is supposed to be somewhere in Moria and that the fellowship is not supposed to deal with him yet, but this is really giving me the creeps. Plus Boromir doesn't seem to have noticed we're being watched.

That's kind of weird, to be honest. After all he's normally super serious about watch duty.

"Boromir!" I don't take my eyes off Gollum as I whisper - who knows what that little bastard has planed, after all? But Boromir doesn't react. Okay, what's up with that? "Dude, are you seeing this?" Still nothing. This is getting really weird. "If you fell asleep or something I swear I'm gonna..." I turn to check what the heck is going on with him. It would suck if he had randomly died here or something. That would be messed up even if Sean Bean plays him.

But Boromir hasn't died and he isn't asleep either. Instead he's staring intently at a point not too far from us. Following his gaze I realize that it's Frodo, or more precisely the Ring. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me..." The chain it's hanging on has slid out of the hobbit's shirt and is now lying in plain view on his bedroll.

Great... Having Gollum sneak about near our camp while my partner is completely freaking useless is not cool. Plus I don't want to wake everyone up since that didn't happen in canon. I glance back at the door and the eyes are still there.

_"...yesss, we sees it, Preciousss... Filthy Bagginses has taken the Preciousss from us..."_ Gollum's hoarse muttering drifts across the room, but it's quiet enough to not wake anyone. Oh, for fuck's sake! I've always loved Gollum in the movies, but this is seriously creeping me out.

I sure as hell won't wrestle Gollum alone if that little bastard tries anything! Oh, hell no!

Cursing under my breath, I elbow Boromir in the side. That seems to have done the trick, because he flinches noticeably and his head shoots up. Good. Maybe that's enough to scare Gollum off without having to wake everyone-

Boromir whirls around, the sword that had been lying next to him in hand and ready to strike. There is a look of absolute fury on his face. "Oh shit!" I grab my own sword and scramble backwards in an attempt to get out of the bigger human's range. Shit, this is really bad!

I'm about to call out for help when the anger vanishes as fast from Boromir's face as it first came and is replaced with horror. He slowly sinks back against the wall, drops the sword onto the bedroll and buries his face in his hands. My heart is racing as I draw a shuddering breath. That was not what I was going for.

I sit back up and glance at the door. The eyes are gone, thank god. I breathe a sigh of relief as I place my sword on the blanket next to me and make sure to keep my distance to Boromir. I'm pretty sure it's over now since he's no longer staring at the ring, but you can't be too careful.

That seriously scared me. I know he's supposed to go crazy at some point, but it's still months to go until Amon Hen. How bad is this going to get? Poor Frodo is going to take the brunt of it, but if this is only the beginning I sure as hell don't want to be in the hobbit's shoes when shit really starts to hit the fan.

And Boromir... Scary as that was, I still feel sorry for him. He's a chill guy and I know he's honorable and wouldn't hurt anyone in the fellowship. But holy shit, seeing what the Ring is doing to him makes me feel relieved in a weird way that it hasn't tried to break my mind... yet. That might sound really selfish, and it probably is, but it's true.

We sit in silence for a while until Boromir finally starts talking in a low voice. "I... I am sorry." He sighs. "It is the ring... It has been in my thoughts for a while now... Since the Council in Imladris... It... It spoke to me, you know." There is no anger left in his voice. Only sadness. "It could help save my people, my home..." He sighs again. "It is still in my thoughts and there is nothing I can do..." After a short pause he continues, still without looking at me. "I am sorry for frightening you like that. Truly sorry."

Telling another person about this must have cost him a lot of courage, considering how proud he normally is. I guess I should comfort him or something. Sad thing is that's something I'm really, really bad at. Thus far I've only had to comfort my little sister a couple times. Whenever else someone back home had been sad, there had always been another person with more people skills nearby. Someone who could deal with it way better then me and I had walked away to let them deal with it. Who knew being a coward like that would bite me in the ass some day...

For a moment I consider waking up Aragorn, but that would be such an incredibly dickish thing to do, after all Boromir seems to be trusting me a lot to tell me that stuff.

And Boromir is still sitting there looking a picture of misery. With a sigh I move back over to sit next to him, still keeping an eye on his sword. Just in case. I'm pretty sure it'll be fine, though. Having no better idea of how to go about comforting him I awkwardly put an arm around his shoulders. He's trembling. Well, crap. Let's hope this works not only with little sisters... I really need to work on my people skills.

Boromir doesn't look up when he starts talking again. "Has it... has it spoken to you?"

Well, has it? If it did, I didn't notice it. "I don't think so... No. No, it hasn't." I haven't desired it or anything. I haven't even thought that much about it. And when I did, it was with fear. Because I know what it can do? Maybe. Because I'm from another world? Who knows. Even though that would be nearly as cliche as being part of a prophecy. But I'm glad it hasn't tried to get into my head. "But... it probably will at some point. I guess it will …test all of us at some point." And I'm really scared of that moment.

"Will you go on?" I can feel Boromir shifting a bit next to me.

"I don't know yet." There are so many problems I still have to solve. Plus what if Galadriel can send me home? The fellowship doesn't need me to succeed, after all. And even if she can't, there's still a long list of stuff I'll have to sort out before we make it to Amon Hen. Awesomeness. "I'll think about it when the time comes." First I'll have to make it out of the mines in one piece anyway.

Wow, I'm so glad no one of the others is seeing this. Or hearing this conversation, for that matter. Especially Frodo. Seeing, how the Ring is beginning to affect the people around him must really suck.

This whole scene probably looks super weird. Boromir, knees pulled to his chest with his face buried in his hands, and me sitting next to him, nearly half a head smaller and with an arm around his shoulders. Well, at least he's stopped trembling. That's good.

I'm about to pull my arm away, but Boromir catches my hand and holds it for a second. "Thank you," he says silently. Oh come on, this is way too cheesy.

Not sure what to make of this, I leave my arm where it is and pet his shoulder awkwardly. "You're welcome, mate." I just wish there was more I could do to help him.

We sit in silence for a while until I notice that Boromir's breathing has slowed down a bit and he's somewhat slumped against me. Well, looks like I'm on my own for the rest of our shift... Normally I'd have woken him up or something, after all being on watch duty in freaking Moria is super creepy. But after what happened earlier it's probably better this way. At least he can't greed for the ring while he's sleeping.

At the end of the shift I pick up a pebble with a sigh. Moving away from here is impossible without waking Boromir up, so I'll probably just sleep while sitting next to him. No big deal. I've done that before on a bunch of LANs, so whatever. Legolas and Merry are on watch after us, so I aim at Legolas and lob the pebble at him.

It hits his arm, causing the elf to sit up immediately. He meets my eye with a look of confusion and mild curiosity on his face. Oh, please tell me he wasn't just pretending to sleep or something. Legolas rises an eyebrow at me. I just shrug and mouth 'later'. The elf seems to understand. He gets up without a sound and makes his way over to Merry to wake up the hobbit.

I lean back against the wall. This day had been weird even for someone dropped into this mess. The last thing I see before drifting off to sleep are the backs of Legolas and Merry sitting in the doorway, watching the shadows.

The sound of someone rummaging around in a pack rouses me from sleep. The first thing I notice is that my left arm is feeling like it died of or something. The next thing is the butt load of hair hanging in my face. I blink drowsily, still tired as heck. Probably because I only got about four or five hours of rest. Awesomeness.

I spit out some hair and sit up properly. Okay, sleeping like this was a huge mistake. My arm is feeling like it's about to fall off. With a yawn I take a quick look around camp. Only Merry – who is the one responsible for the noise – and Legolas are up so far, while Aragorn is stirring on his bedroll. The elf is meanwhile giving me a really weird look.

"What?" I try to somehow free my arm, but it's pretty much stuck between Boromir and the freaking wall. The angle and my arm being asleep aren't helping either.

Legolas smiles innocently. "I am just curious about... that." He gestures at me trying to tug my arm free. "You said, you would explain it 'later', if I am not mistaken," he adds as I rise an eyebrow at him.

Merry, who seems to have finally found whatever the hell he'd been looking for, turns around with some bread in one hand and a broad grin on his face. "You two looked adorable, you know..." My glare doesn't even faze the hobbit. He just keeps grinning and pulls an apple from his pack before sitting down next to a still asleep Pippin.

"Hey." I nudge Boromir. "Can you get up or something? I've to strangle a hobbit."

Boromir blinks a few times confused before sitting up and grumbling something along the lines of "What? Why?" At least one other person here isn't in a disgustingly good mood early in the morning.

I flap my arm around a bit to get some life back into it. "Merry said we'd look adorable." Legolas and Merry start laughing at that. Seriously, something is wrong when a hobbit calls big folk adorable. It's weird! At this point everyone else is slowly waking up, so the banter is cut short as people start packing up their stuff.

I collect my sword and start rolling up my bedding when Boromir places a hand on my shoulder. "Thank you," the Gondorian says quietly, a serious look on his face.

I nod at him. "Don't sweat it, man." Boromir looks a bit confused at that. Oh yeah, earth phrases don't work here. I really need to remember that. "I mean, don't worry. It's alright." I feel tempted to add some cheesy rendition of that 'we're partners' line, but seeing how he probably wouldn't get it...

Half an hour later we are ready to move. Merry is still shooting me grins whenever our eyes meet, though. And being the good adult I am, I do my best to flip him off subtly every time. God, I'm glad there are no cameras or mobiles in Middle Earth or I'd never live that down.

We make our way back to the room with the three tunnels rather quick and in silence. This time, however, the wizard doesn't hesitate and leads us straight into the tunnel going downwards. He explains that the air down there is better. No one objects and we keep walking.

Now that everyone is rested up we move a lot quicker than yesterday. The fact that something down here has giant drums and knows someone is moving through its home might be helping as well. Aragorn and Frodo keep their swords unsheathed as much as possible and I catch various people trying to subtly glance back the way we've come. But we are alone. The swords remain as dark as ever and the shadows are just that. Shadows.

The streets are still riddled with deep crags and holes, but they are fewer and less severe than on the higher levels. The hobbits still have to be thrown across one particularly deep crag.

Once again we only pause when Gandalf isn't sure about the way, or to have a quick bite to eat. At some point we make it to a broad, pretty much intact street. This causes Gandalf to lighten up quite a bit, as it seems we are making good time. He even tells us about the names and purposes of some of the halls we come across, much to Gimli's delight. It seems the dwarf still has some hope to find his cousin alive left in his heart.

Poor guy. What would I feel if I wandered through a deserted town back home, where the only signs of people having lived there are a couple of old skeletons? It's a sad thing to picture.

We start looking for a place to set up camp when it's obvious that the hobbits can't keep going for much longer. If I'd have to guess I'd say we've been walking for at least twelve hours at this point. But without sun or moon it's impossible to tell the time down here.

I'm once more walking on autopilot, when Legolas in front of me suddenly stops dead in his tracks, causing me to almost run into him. It takes me a moment to realize why we have stopped though: We have left the narrow corridor we had been following earlier and stepped out into a hall. It's too dark outside of Gandalf's small light circle, so it's impossible for me to see how big this place really is. But from the way it feels, it has to be ginormous.

We are standing in the entrance for a couple of seconds, unsure of what to expect in this open space. Then Gandalf steps forward. The sound of his staff on the ground echoes through the hall as he does so. "Let us risk a little more light," he whispers and rises his staff.

For only a second the weird, shiny crystal turns into a floodlight. It's still not enough to reach the far corners of the hall. I can make out giant, polished columns shaped like trees, which carry a ceiling too high to be illuminated by Gandalf and a floor made out of black stone with a mirror-like shine to it. The sharp and deep shadows make the place look even more imposing. There also seems to be a doorway on each side of the hall.

And then it's dark again, leaving us only with the small bubble of light the staff is creating. I try to imagine how this place might have looked back in the days when Moria had still been a great kingdom, full of light and with dwarfs running around everywhere. Hopefully the dwarfs will be able to reclaim and rebuild it once the war is over.

"It seems we have made it to the inhabitable places of the mines," Gandalf informs us as we get moving again. "If Balin is still alive, he should be somewhere around here. But let us rest first."

We make camp in one of the corners of the hall. We eat in silence and quickly lie down afterward. I stare up into the darkness, feeling kind of exposed out here in the great hall. Gandalf and Frodo are getting ready to take the first watch, while Gimli and Sam are still talking in low voices.

Suddenly the dwarf begins to sing. It takes me a second to recognize the song as the Moria Song from the books. I always loved that one, but never bothered to actually memorize it. And thus I drift off into sleep imagining the mines full of light, music and laughing dwarfs.

When I wake up again, it's because light is shining in my face. Surprisingly it's real daylight, not just Gandalf's crystal! Awesome! I sit up and look around for the source of the light. It turns out to be one of the doorways leading out of the hall. Huh. If I'm not mistaken it's the northern one.

Wait. Hall... lit up door... Oh crap, I remember this place from the movie. My stomach drops as I realize what that means. This is bad news. On the positive site of things it does mean that we are nearly done with Moria though. Finally. After my encounter with Gollum I seriously don't want to spend another night in this place.

Breakfast takes us only a few minutes during which we decide to take a peek into the northern room. Well, the others decided it. I didn't comment on the whole issue because I was getting rather anxious. But what can you do? Gandalf needs to check the room out so he can calculate our position and everyone else wants to see some daylight.

The way there is shorter than I'd have liked it to be. Once we enter the room, every last bit of doubt I had is destroyed. Flat stone tomb in the middle? Check. Light shining down on it? Check. Bunch of shelves with old books on them? Check. Yeah, looks like this is the place.

I take a quick look around to familiarize myself a little with the battlefield, as we all step into the small chamber. There's a crap ton of skeletons on the floor, most of them curled up in awkward, painful looking positions. Nearly all of them seem to be dwarfs, the rest belongs to different orc races. There are some rotten boards on the floor, probably from shelves or something, and the light is coming from a deep tunnel in the roof.

Frodo moves up to the sarcophagus. He wipes off some of the dust gathered there to reveal a few lines of runes. "That looks like a tomb," the hobbit whispers with a hint of uneasiness in his voice, as the rest of the fellowship moves to check out said tomb. I stay at the back. I know this stuff already, so there's no real reason for me to be up in front.

Gandalf is translating the runes, causing Gimli to sink to his knees and whisper some unintelligible words in Khuzdul. Aragorn places a hand on the weeping dwarf's shoulder, while everyone else just stands there in sad silence.

Legolas finally breaks it. He walks over to a corpse with a book clasped in its dead hands. I know what that is. The elf carefully removes it from the stiff fingers and gently places it on the tomb. It looks extremely old and fragile, plus there are brown stains on it. If I had to guess, I'd say it's blood. "Gandalf, maybe this can tell us about Balin's fate."

Gandalf pushes past the others and opens it with a frown. He leafs through the pages, muttering under his breath all the while. Aragorn moves to stand behind the wizard, while Gimli is still kneeling at his cousin's tomb. Gandalf reads a couple of passages from the book out loud, but it seems to be hard to decipher the writing, so he ends up skipping quite a bit. Meanwhile I keep an eye on the door. We can't be too careful after all. Plus waiting for the battle to finally start is making me feel sick in my stomach.

The Watcher and even the wargs were child's play compared to what's coming for us this time.

I'm making sure my sword is comfortably in my range and ready to be drawn, when Gandalf finally makes it to the interesting part of the book.

"_...The pool is up to the wall at West-gate... The watcher in the Water took Óin..." _Gimli lowers his head as Gandalf says that. Óin is his uncle if I remember correctly. _"We cannot get out." _Gandalf looks up, concern clearly visible on his face. _"The end comes soon. We hear drums. Drums in the deep."_

Hearing all this sends an icy chill down my spine. The hobbits look seriously creeped out as well.

"The last word is but a scrawl. Ah, I got it. '_They are coming...' _It seems they made their last stand in this very room. It must have been horrible." The wizard frowns and closes the book carefully. "Gimli, you should take this with you. One might be able to decipher more of it in daylight than here. I am sure your father would want to know about this. Now, let us return to the hall. I believe I know now where exactly we are. This is the archive chamber of Mazarbul," he explains as he hands the book to Gimli, who places it in his pack.

"So," Boromir says. "What route should we take now?"

"We came through the 21. Hall from the northern end, so we should be on the seventh floor. That is a few floors above the eastern gates. It would be best if we returned to the hall-" A deafening _boom _cuts the wizard off mid sentence. The sound makes the floor vibrate and my teeth clatter. Dust is raining down on us. The drums these Goblins use must be freaking gigantic.

For a second everyone just stands there like they are frozen. The blood has visibly drained from most faces and Sam has taken on an unhealthy shade of green. My hands are shaking as I grab the hilt of my sword and fear is making it hard to breath, so I doubt I'm looking much better.

"They are coming," Legolas whispers. I never thought I'd see a genuinely scared elf one day.

"We cannot get out," Gimli growls darkly.

Well, shit. I glance outside nervously, but the hall is still dark and empty.

Aragorn reacts the quickest. "Bar the door," he shouts as he wrenches a bunch of old axes and spears from a dead dwarf's grasp. "Let us try to flee through the second door. We will never make it across the hall in time!" Somewhere outside a horn is blown and shouts are coming our way.

Looks like shit's about to get very real.

Boromir tries to take a quick look outside, only to nearly by nailed in the face by an arrow. He slams the door shut and Aragorn uses the axes and whatnot to bar it.

"An army of Goblins and at least one cave troll are coming our way," the Gondorian reports breathlessly and hands Aragorn a rusty sword.

"Then let us hope the other way stays clear. Otherwise there is no hope for us to leave this place alive," Aragorn says darkly and draws his sword. Everyone else follows suit. Glamdring and Sting are glowing bright blue. Sadly feature didn't help us in any way this time around. Damnit.

Boromir and Aragorn take point at the door, Gimli is already standing on Balin's tomb, ax in hand. Gandalf and I take positions at his flanks and Legolas and the hobbits are standing behind us, ready to shoot or throw stones. Legolas has already nocked an arrow.

My hands are trembling as I stand there and wait, while the drums are still playing somewhere beneath us. Man, this is bad.

I tense as something slams into the door. Aragorn and Boromir quickly throw themselves against it, trying to buy us some more time. But the goblins don't give a crap. They start hacking away at the wood, just like they did in the movie. Another hit causes the spears used to bar the door to bend and shatter. Looks like one more is going to do it.

"Guys!" But Boromir and Aragorn have already realized, that they are fighting a loosing battle and are backing up. Legolas meanwhile shoots a goblin that managed to hack a pretty big hole into the door. Suddenly the wood shatters and the door is thrown open. Goblins flood into the chamber, and within seconds chaos reigns.

Most of the creatures are wearing makeshift armor that looks like it was already around when Moria got conquered. Some of it seems to have been built by the Goblins themselves, but it's rusty and dirty. Their weapons look mean. Maces, flails, bloody knives and some overly spiky falchions.

A second later they are upon us. I manage to slash a few and even land killing blows on two or three, while trying to dodge or block their attacks. One strike hits my side, but thanks to the angle it gets stopped by my chain mail. Ah, crap. This is going to leave a bruise. Aragorn and Boromir are meanwhile taking out Goblins by the dozen, the hobbits are throwing stones from the back line and Gandalf is twirling around both his staff and Glamdring with amazing speed and accuracy. Gimli is still standing on the tomb, using the additional height to smash heads.

Suddenly the Goblins start retreating back to the door. Alright, looks like we won round one. But I know what's next and it's not going to be pretty. Now, that the fighting has died down, I take a quick look around. The rest of the fellowship are splattered with blood and look kind of worn out, but it's mostly black orc blood. Only Sam got a scratch on his forehead. It makes me wonder how one of these bastards made it past our front line. Gotta watch out for that next time.

So far, so good. Now for round two!

My heart is racing and I'm shaking. But there's not much time to get back into formation, since something big and ugly is moving towards us. I draw a slow breath and drop into one of the defensive stances Boromir taught me. The troll lumbers slowly into the chamber. It's big, at least two and a half meters tall, with bulging muscles and a way too small head. And it's bringing a mean looking club along.

Oh well. That's a cave troll, I guess. Its ugly, little eyes move over the fellowship, but suddenly stop, when the troll spots Frodo. It stands there for a second, deciding on an attack plan, before letting out a loud roar and charging. Straight towards Boromir and me. Goddamnit.

Standing in the troll's way isn't going to do anything, since he can just turn me into goo with one smash of that club. Plus we aren't his main target anyway. I jump to the side, barely avoiding the club, and try to land a blow on the troll's leg. My sword just glances off the troll's thick skin uselessly. I curse under my breath.

Boromir, however, hasn't moved. The troll hits him and smashes him into the wall. This means there is nothing standing between the troll and the hobbits. Aragorn and Gimli are on the other side of the tomb fighting a ton of Goblins, Legolas is focused on the Goblins entering the room, Boromir seems to be out cold and I'm standing behind it. Luckily the hobbits have already retreated behind some pillars.

In theory we should be able to kite the troll until it's down, but the goblins are kind of in the way and I doubt explaining kiting in the middle of a battle is going to work. In the movies he gets taken out by some arrows to the face, so maybe baiting him will work.

"Hey, asshole!" I thrust at his leg again, but even the needlepoint of the sword barely penetrates its scaly skin. The troll roars again as it advances towards the pillars. From the corner of my eye I can see that Aragorn is moving towards the back of the room as well, but a quick swing with the club knocks him off his feet. The hobbits have gone back to throwing stones, but it's not doing anything.

"Come on... you... stupid... piece of... crap!" I keep hacking away at the troll, but it ignores me. I can't see what's going on from my position behind its legs, but it seems it has cornered Frodo and picked up a spear or something. Before I can react, Frodo gets stabbed and Aragorn is next to him in an instant and tears the spear from the troll's hand.

The troll turns around with a speed that's surprising for its side. This causes Merry and Pippin to jump on its back, swords drawn. I have no clue if they are even scratching it, though. Now, that the troll is staring at me directly, my heart sinks and I freeze up.

Thus I have no way to dodge the next attack. The troll's flailing arm hits me full force and sends me flying across the room. The impact forces whatever air was still left after the punch from my lungs.

I clamp down on my panic as it takes a few seconds till I'm able to breathe again. Suddenly Gimli is standing over me, bloody ax in one hand and extends an equally bloody hand. I grab it thankfully and the dwarf pulls me to my feet. "Are you hurt?" I just shake my head, not trusting my voice entirely. "Good." And with that he cuts down a Goblin who has come way to close for comfort. But the battle is basically over. A handful of surviving Goblins are retreating and the troll looks like it's close to dropping, too.

While Gimli and I mop up the last few Goblins still left in the room, the troll _finally_ goes down to Legolas and the hobbits, shaking the whole room when it hits the floor. The last fleeing Goblin gets picked off by Legolas while it runs for the door and that's it. We won without losing anyone.

Silence falls over the chamber and for a second the only thing I can hear is the heavy breathing of the others. Holy shit, that was intense. But we don't get time to recover. "Run!" Gandalf shouts from the other side of the room and moves towards the second door. "Run as fast as you can! This might be our only chance to escape!" The wizard shoves the hobbits through the door and Aragorn, who has picked up Frodo, is behind them. I look back before I follow them. Boromir is limping after me and Legolas is dragging a loudly protesting Gimli with him.

Good. We are safe for the moment.

"Down the stairs! Quick," Gandalf shouts as soon as everyone's there. "I shall seal the door to buy us some time. If I do not follow in a few minutes, continue without me. Keep to the right and downward." Aragorn looks like he's about to protest, but Gandalf cuts him off with a wave of his hand. "Do as I say." His beard and eyebrows bristle with anger. "Swords are useless here. Now go before it is too late!"

Aragorn hesitates for a second before making up his mind. "Come on." And with that he starts down the stairs. We stick close to him. Without Gandalf's staff it's completely dark down here, but luckily the stairs are even and mostly undamaged. The sound of the drums is still deafening and the stone beneath my feet is shaking.

The flight of stairs is long and when we finally reach its end, I can't even see Gandalf's staff in the darkness above. I can however hear faintly, that he's shouting words in a different language. That's probably the sealing formula.

Next to me, Aragorn is setting down Frodo. The hobbit has woken up and insists that he's fine, but he still sounds pretty shaky to me. The collective sigh of relief upon hearing that Frodo is okay is well audible.

Poor guy. Even with the Mithriel Shirt that spear thrust must have shattered some of his ribs. I'm actually surprised he's alive, considering the force of the impact and how he got nailed against a wall. The ring mail didn't do anything to soften the impact, after all.

Aragorn seems to share that opinion. "That spear thrust would have killed a wild boar. It is truly a miracle that you are still alive, Master Hobbit."

But before anyone else can comment, a flash illuminates the stairs and a loud bang shakes the ground. Something must have happened at the door! I squint into the darkness, but there's nothing I can see. And then Gandalf comes rolling down the stairs. He lands on the ground between us with a groan in a heap of limps and gray robes. The light on his staff is barely more than a faint glow now. That can't be good, I guess...

Aragorn and Legolas help the wizard to his feet. From what I can see in the faint light his face has taken on an ashen color and sweat is coating his forehead. "Thank you," the wizard gasps. "This will stop them for a moment, but they can still bring open the door with brute force. Follow me!" The wizard starts slowly walking down the hallway. He walks slower than normal and he seems to look older than an hour ago. It's scary to see him this way, scary to see how powerful that Balrog must be to do this to him.

It sends chills down my spine as we hurry through the dark streets of Moria. I glance over my shoulder, afraid to see the sheen of fire somewhere behind us, but there's only a limping Boromir.

"There was something else up there," Gandalf says finally in a grim tone. "I could not see it clearly, but it was radiating an incredible power. And horror. When it entered, the Goblins retreated fearfully and when it cast a counter spell to my seal, it nearly destroyed me."

Wait, Balrogs can cast magic? Wow. That's... That's even worse than having a big ass burning monster chasing us. The shocked silence shows, that I'm not the only one thinking that. I wonder if they already figured out what exactly is after us? But seeing how everyone glances backwards and people are reaching for their swords shows how serious all of this has gotten all of the sudden.

"Durin's Bane," Gimli whispers, his voice shacking a little. "The dwarfs awakened a nameless terror in the mines. It was the reason why we fled this place. I had hoped to see it conquered and rid of evil, but I understand now that Balin has failed. Gandalf, I have seen Moria now, but it has become dark and terrible." He sighs and Legolas puts a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Do you know what kind of creature it was?"

The wizard is silent for a second as he shoos us down another hallway. "I am not entirely sure and I truly hope to be mistaken," he finally replies in a flat voice. "But it seemed to be a Balrog of Morgoth. A Demon of the ancient world. You are powerless against this foe."

"A Balrog," Legolas breathes. "I thought, the last one had been slain many centuries ago."

"This one is very much alive," Gandalf growls. "We have to get to the bridge. Then we might have a chance to escape. Now come!" The wizard leads us down flights of stairs and around turns as fast as his beaten body allows. It's getting steadily warmer and at some point smoke begins to fill the air. That can't be good.

A second later, the corridor opens into a hall that's bigger than the one we spent the night in. Red fire light is mirrored in polished, black pillars and the floor. The source of it seems to be a long, burning crack in the floor that's running parallel to our path. As scary as all of this is, there is still a weird beauty to it.

From the corner of my eye I notice Goblins, trolls and something big entering the hall from a tunnel on the other side of the flames. Their shouts and the rattling of armor is clearly audible over the crackling of the flames and our heavy breathing. The rhythm of the drums is picking up and the Goblins join in by banging their swords against their shields.

But they all back up as the giant creature comes into view. It runs towards the crack and jumps it with ease, but catches fire in the process. That has to be the Balrog. Fan-fucking-tastic.

We still have a pretty massive head start, but the Balrog seems to be slowly gaining on us. Behind it, the trolls are using big stone slabs to cross the crack. Somewhere in front of me the hobbits are screaming and I can totally understand them. The only reason I'm not joining in is that I need all the air I can get to keep running.

"This way," Gandalf roars. "To the Bridge of Khazad-Dûm!"

We sprint the last hundred or so meters through the hall. I'm out of breath and my chest is stinging from the troll hit I took, but the thought of being barbecued by a Balrog drives me forward.

About fifty meters ahead the floor suddenly gives way to a gaping chasm. The only way to cross it is a narrow, arched stone bridge with no railing whatsoever. That has to be the Bridge of Khazad-Dûm then.

The wizard waits next to the bridge while all of us cross it. I don't even slow down as I sprint past him and across the stone arch. It's barely a meter wide and I don't dare look down. Instead, I focus on the back of Legolas, who is running in front of me.

Once I'm safe on the other side I turn around. The Balrog is slowly closing in on the Bridge, but Gandalf is still trying to convince Aragorn to run for it. The wizard has drawn his sword and I can see his beard bristling even from the other side of the chasm. The drums drown out their words, but I'm pretty sure I know what they're saying anyway. Aragorn finally turns around and joins us on the other side of the chasm, when the Balrog is only mere meters from the Bridge.

Gandalf backs up until he is standing in the middle of the stone arch. The Balrog roars and spreads its massive wings as it steps out onto the bridge. I can feel the heat it's radiating even here and the hot breath of the Balrog feels like it's burning off my eyebrows. Gandalf, however, is completely unimpressed by that.

The Monster produces a flaming whip from seemingly nowhere and cracks it, but Gandalf blocks the attack with a glowing shield, sending sparks flying everywhere. It's impressive how powerful this old man actually is. Even though I know he is rather strong, it's still hard to believe until you see him do battle with a giant, burning demon.

"You can not pass," Gandalf says calmly, while using his growing spell once again. Only this time he seems to be glowing from the inside. Compared to this, our run in with the wargs must have been little more than a bit of fireworks to him. "I am a servant of the secret fire, wielder of the Flame of Anor! You shall not pass!" With these words Gandalf slams his staff down onto the Bridge. It shatters in his hands and the pieces fall down into the abyss.

The Balrog lets out a sound that reminds me of cruel, crackling laughter as it jumps forward, dark wings spread out. But the stone cracks under its feet as soon as it lands. The Balrog doesn't seem to notice and attacks Gandalf again. The wizard rises his sword to block, but the attack never lands. Instead, the Bridge gives way under the Balrog. With an angry roar the creature vanishes in the darkness below.

Well, that was kind of anticlimactic. But we are not done yet.

I can even hear someone next to me breathe a sigh of relief. Gandalf turns around, tired, sweaty and with a slightly scorched beard, but victorious. Or so it seems. He's about to return to us, when the whip shoots out of the chasm one last time and curls around his leg.

"Watch out!" But Aragorn's shout is to late. The wizard stumbles, slips and follows his foe into the chasm.

"Fly, you fools!" That's the last I hear of him, before the abyss swallows him whole.

**Thanks to everyone who followed, faved, reviewed and read this. I'm really glad you guys are enjoying it! **

**Reader1:**** Hi! It's not too long until Lórien and Amon Hen, so this will be answered soon :D**

**Kitty:**** Hi! I hope you enjoyed the other chapters as well :)**

**Stormrunner74:**** Hi and thanks! I guessed you meant Faramir. Autocorrect is a piece of crap sometimes :(**

**Yuki Suou:**** Thank you! It's good to know that you like the OC and I hope you enjoy this update, too!**


	11. Naps on Trees

**Chapter 10: Naps on Trees**

I stare into the chasm as the last light of the Balrog vanishes in the darkness. I knew this was coming since, well, forever. That's probably why part of me thought it wouldn't faze me. But now? It probably doesn't hit me as hard as some of the others, but it still hurts to see Gandalf fall.

These guys are real people to me now and a part of me had still hoped he'd somehow make it out alive. But that didn't happen, of course.

Next to me Frodo is screaming Gandalf's name. Aragorn sprints forward to the destroyed bridge and stares down into the chasm, a horrified look on his face.

But Gandalf is long gone from sight, together with the Balrog. A cold breeze is blowing out of the crag, now that the heat it had radiated, is gone.

I look up with a sigh. Yes, I'm sad, after all Gandalf was my friend too. But it didn't take my by surprise like it did with everyone else. The goblins have meanwhile crossed the hall and are raining arrows down on us from the other side of the chasm. Luckily they are the Lord of the Rings equivalent to Storm Troopers, so their aim sucks. One arrow hits Frodo, but bounces off harmlessly. The other ones hit the wall behind us and clatter to the floor.

It's still time to high tail it out of here before one of these bastards gets a lucky hit in. And waiting for chance to do them a solid certainly isn't the most intelligent course of action. "Guys! We got to move if we want to make it out alive!" I look over my shoulder. There is only one corridor leading away from the bridge. That's our way. "Leaving Moria as pin cushions wouldn't help the quest!"

Legolas steps forward and places a hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "Laura is right," he says quietly and pulls Aragorn back, away from the abyss. "There is nothing you could have done, my friend. Come." Aragorn doesn't fight back when Legolas pulls him away gently. He's just looking at the floor, utterly defeated.

When Aragorn looks up again, there is fire in his eyes. Okay, that's better. I knew he wouldn't just give up, but for a second it looked very much like it. "Follow me! Quick," Aragorn calls and runs towards the stone arch I spotted earlier. I grab hold of Pippin, who is standing next to me and looks completely stunned. This must be really hard on him, considering how long he knew Gandalf and everything. The hobbit doesn't resist when I half drag, half lead him over to Aragorn. Gimli is struggling violently while he's being dragged away by Boromir and Legolas, while Merry and Sam lead Frodo away from the chasm.

The others are close behind me. Once everyone has gathered around, Aragorn takes a look around. The hobbits are in tears, Legolas' eyes have a weird sheen to them, Gimli looks pissed and Boromir seems to be holding up all right. Aragorn himself is radiating pure determination. It's audible in his voice as well. "We have to leave. There are probably ways other than the bridge to leave the mines. Once night falls the hills outside will be swarming with orcs."

"It is not far to Dimrill Dale," Aragorn explains as we jog down the corridor. "But we have to hurry. It is past noon already and I wish to cross the borders of Lothlórien before nightfall." He doesn't need to tell us why. The drums are still playing somewhere beneath us and goblins are screeching in the distance. The sound makes my hair stand, while Aragorn picks up the pace.

We follow the corridor into a hall and through a smashed stone door. On the other side lies a broad flight of stairs that leads down into another hall.

"There," Merry shouts as we run down the stairs. "That's the gates!" He's right. On the other side of the hall is an arch illuminated by daylight! Finally! The real 'gate' must have been destroyed long ago. That explains why Gandalf and Aragorn had no problems when they entered the mines from the east.

A single orc is standing watch near the gate. He is lazily leaning on a spear, but as soon as he catches sight of us, he drops it and runs off into the darkness with a fearful screech. Good for him, but I doubt letting him escape will be good for us. As long as the sun is still up, we should be fine, though. Let's just hope Aragorn's plan works and we make it to Lórien before dusk.

A second later we are outside. Blinded, I nearly trip over a stone, but manage to regain my balance in the last moment. Looks like the light I saw during the fight against the Balrog and later during our escape was way too dim, to prepare me for the bright sunlight. The muttered curses of Pippin and Gimli suggest that I'm not the only one having that problem, as we stumble down the worn out steps into Dimrill Dale.

After spending the last few days underground, the fresh, cool air and the breeze out here feel amazing. I squint around a bit as my eyes adjust to the light. We have stopped at the lower end of the stairs and are standing at the foot of the mountains in a rocky, gray looking valley, surrounded by the foothills of the Misty Mountains. The Silverlode is flowing somewhere on our left, but I can't see it. Not much is growing here, except for some moss and a few sad weeds. I can see a green haze at the end of the valley, but who knows if that's the forest of Lórien or just a distant field.

Now that we've made it out alive and aren't in danger, the adrenaline that has fueled me since Mazarbul is wearing off. I'm tired, out of breath, drenched in sweat and blood, and various parts of my body are hurting. How in hell am I supposed to survive a slog to Lórien like this? It's going to suck, that much is for sure.

I glance at the other members of the fellowship. Aragorn is just standing there fists clenched, facing away from us. Pretty much everyone else has sat down where they stood, Legolas and I stand around awkwardly. The hobbits are openly crying and Gimli looks like he wants to personally wring the Balrog's neck. Understandable, after all he has lost more than just Gandalf during our trek through the mines.

Aragorn turns around and looks up at the mountainside. "What are we supposed to do without you, Gandalf? Is there any hope left for our quest?" I follow his gaze. Out here, in the sun, it's hard to believe how many evil things have made the mines their home. Overgrown squids, fire demon things, orcs, trolls... There's no way I'll ever set foot in there again! If I'll ever make it back home, I'll write a letter to PJ about how irresponsible his movies are.

After a few seconds Aragorn continues with a sight. "But we must try, with or without hope." He makes eye contact with everyone of us as he talks and the determination I saw on his face at the Bridge has returned. "I do not have Gandalf's wisdom and I do not know the path he wished to take. But I will try to lead you as good as I can." No one answers, but I'm sure that this little speech has had it's effect on them, too.

Since it looks like we are taking a short break, I sit down on one of the large rocks lying around everywhere. Meanwhile Aragorn hurries over to Frodo and kneels down next to him. They talk in low voices, until Fordo wipes away his tears and hesitantly unbuttons his waistcoat and shirt, revealing a beautiful mail shirt. Silver rings are gleaming in the sun light and I'm pretty sure it's decorated with white gemstones, too.

Aragorn laughs in relief as soon as he sees it and apparently asks the hobbits something, because Frodo responds with a serious nod. Gimli has seen the shirt too and hurries over to Aragorn and Frodo. "That is a Mithriel byrnie! And a beautiful one, at that," he exclaims as he crouches down next to Aragorn and examines the mail shirt. "I have never seen one this well made. Truly, a gift fit for a king!" Gimli has drawn nearly everyone's attention with his exclamation and now the other hobbits and Boromir are forming a curious circle around Frodo.

I use that opportunity to take cover behind the rock I had been sitting on. Out of sight from the rest of the fellowship, I lift my own mail and the clothing beneath it to check for injuries. It reveals a little collection of dark blue bruises and one even shows the pattern of my ring mail. But I'm not bleeding and nothing seems to be broken. Good, but it looks like I'll feel that for a couple of days.

When I stand up, Frodo is already buttoning up his waistcoat. He loos pretty uneasy, now that everyone has seen his mail shirt. I wonder if that's because of the immense worth of it or because he is concerned that one of us might attack him. I glance at Boromir involuntary. Sadly reason number two isn't unlikely at all.

Aragorn gets up, since it looks like the tears have ceased a little and most of us have recovered a bit during the break. "I know you wish to mourn for Gandalf, but we have to leave this place. I am truly sorry, but this valley will be crawling with orcs once darkness falls. The shadows are lengthening already!" He takes one last glance at the mountainside and lowers his head in respect.

Because there's nothing to pack up, we are quickly ready to continue. Our speed is rather slow, though. There's a path leading through the valley, but it's rocky and in bad condition, and injured hobbits are not the fastest beings in Middle Earth. Without a Balrog chasing after us for motivation they most likely won't speed up any time soon. We walk past Kheled-zâram and Durin's Stone, where Frodo and Gimli split off to take a closer look. They don't stay long and return soon enough, both lost in thought.

We walk in silence for the most part, but at some point Boromir asks from the very back: "Say, where are you leading us?" Even though he tries to hide it, the exhaustion in his voice is obvious and his limp has gotten worse. Looks like the troll got him good.

"To Lórien. There we will be safe from any pursuers and can rest, until our wounds are healed," Aragorn explains. The different reactions to this are interesting to behold: The hobbits are just looking mildly curious and relieved at the news, most likely because it means food and a warm bath. Legolas looks content with the course of action as well. Makes sense, since the elves of Lórien are his kin. Gimli doesn't seem too happy, but it looks like there is a spark of curiosity in there somewhere, too. Boromir just frowns.

I'm looking forward to Lórien. Who in his right mind wouldn't? The promise of safety, food, a soft bed, and the chance to wash myself and my clothes somewhere is simply way to good to be ignored. Galadriel is something different though. Her power to read minds is scary enough on its own for everyone else, but it's pretty likely that she finds out about my background by just looking at me. She's on our side, so it's not that bad, but she is powerful enough to guarantee an impact, if she decides to intervene because of it. Still, she should be wise enough to not mess us over. Unlike me, when I told Elrond that going with the fellowship was a good idea.

"Lórien? I have heard of that place. In my city it is said that a powerful enchantress is living there. Few men have ever returned from there, and those, who did were changed forever." I can't help but roll my eyes at that. Oh, come on, mate. After Rivendell and hanging out with Legolas for all this time, you should know better than that. It's so sad to see Boromir still being so paranoid towards people who should be our allies.

"The knowledge in Gondor must truly be fading, for your people to speak ill of the Golden Woods," Aragorn says in a saddened tone. "But you are right, when you say that few leave these lands unchanged. But not every change is foul. And only those, who are evil or bring evil with them, needs to fear the Woods of Lórien."

"Well, it's not exactly like we are carrying cake and liquid rainbows to Lórien;" I comment dryly. Legolas, who is walking in front of me, turns at that and sends me a warning glare. He is probably right. I know that we'll be fine in the end, but adding fuel to the fire is probably a bad idea, considering how on edge everyone is. "Sorry."

"Just for the record," Boromir says. "I voted against both the Mines and the Pass, and danger found us on both." Yes, nice statistics and yes, he has every right to say 'told you so'. Heck, the fire wood probably saved more than one life on Caradhras.

"Bloody hell, give it a rest already. The thing is, that pretty much everyone who isn't with the Free Peoples wants to see us dead and that we, for some reason, attract every big, ugly monster in a ten mile radius like a freaking magnet," I groan. Seriously, how often do we have to discuss that bullshit? "We only had three ways to cross the mountains and every single one of them sucked." I glance at Legolas. "Sorry again."

"What is this Lórien place you keep talking about?," Pippin interjects curiously, before anyone can get any more railed up. He might have stopped a full blown argument with it, since Boromir looks like he was about to snap back. Tension has been running high ever since we fled the mines, so I'm not really surprised but it probably would have been better if I hadn't said anything.

"It is the most beautiful elven real in all of Middle-Earth. It is said to harbor a power that keeps evil at bay, which is why it has not been tainted like Mirkwood," Legolas explains and slows down until he is walking next to the hobbits. "It is also the only place in Middle-Earth that grows Mallorn Trees. Just wait until you see them! Their trunks are like silver and their leafs like gold. Alas, we will see it during winter, otherwise you would have seen them blossom."

Legolas keeps talking about the history of Lórien while we continue. It's interesting and I actually know next to nothing about it, apart from the obvious stuff. After a while, Aragorn interrupts him, because Frodo and Sam have fallen way behind without anyone noticing. We stop while he and Legolas go back to pick up and carry the two hobbits. We continue once they are back and after a few minutes of walking Aragorn leads us off the path and to a narrow stream.

Aragorn is not particularly happy about having to stop, but the hobbits aren't doing good at all and would only slow us down otherwise. With a sigh he looks around the little clearing we stopped at. "I will need a fire and fresh water. Sam, can you hand me the bandages, you packed?"

While Gimli goes off to find some wood, Merry, Pippin and I collect everyone's water skins plus a big pot from Sam. Since Gandalf was against using any water source in Moria out of fear that they might have been contaminated, we are pretty low on water. I quickly fill up the pot and carry it back. Gimli is already lighting a little camp fire and Frodo has taken off his shirt and mail shirt, so that Aragorn can check out his injury. After helping Merry and Pippin with the remaining water skins, I quickly wash my hands and face to get rid of the remaining orc blood and grime.

When we return, Sam is passing out the last bit of hard bread and dried meat left from Rivendell, while he is waiting for Aragorn to check his cut. We'll have to get new provisions in Lórien that aren't lembas. Pippin, Merry and I quickly hand out the water skins, before the hobbits go to check on Frodo, who is still being examined by Aragorn.

The camp is silent except for a hushed conversation between Frodo and Aragorn, while we wait for the water to boil. Most people seem to be engrossed in their own thoughts and only Legolas is standing a couple of meters away, one hand on the trunk of a tree and eyes and ears alert as ever. The whole atmosphere is pretty depressing, especially the disheartened expressions on the hobbits' faces.

I sit down near the fire next to Gimli and Boromir, who is preoccupied with a bandage on his leg. He must have wrapped it during our first break and is now taking it off, probably so he can clean the wound. We actually got away worse than the fellowship did in the books. Probably because they were only facing an orc chieftain and we had to deal with the PJ troll for some odd reason. I wonder, why. Are things already beginning to change due to me being with the fellowship? This one came from seemingly nowhere. How in hell am I supposed to see changes as random as this one coming?

And I had killed a guy. Well, a couple of orcs, and it's not like I haven't signed up here to do exactly that. They attacked first, and I would have probably been dead if I hadn't killed them, but I still can't help but feel bad about it. After all they are living beings capable of speech and everything. I doubt that they can to be reasoned with, but it still bothers me. Considering how the quest is supposed to go, I should probably get used to killing stuff without second thoughts, or I'll end up as the one who pushes up daisies. I'll have to deal with it eventually, but now isn't the time.

Instead I turn to Boromir. "What happened to your leg?" The bandages have revealed a long and ugly looking cut in his thigh, which shouldn't be there if the LotR books are to be believed. Frodo and Sam were the only ones, who were mentioned to be hurt. But here? Aragorn, Boromir and I got tossed across the room, Boromir and Sam got cut and Frodo barely avoided being transformed into a smudge on the wall. Looks like we are doing great so far, especially if you include the instance where I nearly got mauled by a warg.

"A goblin was not as dead as I thought. He got me with a knife," Boromir explains curtly, while he carefully probes the injury.

"Well, that sucks." On the other side of camp Aragorn has just finished bandaging up Frodo. He gets up, walks up to the fire and throws something into the pot of boiling water. A strange, but fresh smell rises from it a second later. It wakes me up and relieves the pain and soreness in my muscles a little. I guess that's Arthelas. Looks like it is indeed the aspirin of Middle-Earth, at least in the hands of a king. "You might want to have Aragorn check that out," I add, gesturing at Boromir's leg.

"It is just a cut." Boromir shrugs, not impressed by my idea. Or maybe he's still pissed because his opinions keep getting ignored when it comes to the route we take?

"It'd still suck if it was poisoned or got infected or something," I comment and shrug. "I hear orc scratches tend to do that." True story. And having people die because of some infected scratch would be incredibly unnecessary. Or maybe I'm just paranoid because of Game of Thrones. Goddamnit.

"She is right about an infection," Legolas says. "Poison, however, would have most likely already caused symptoms. It is safe to assume that you are alright." He calls out to Aragorn in Elvish, but I have no idea what he might be saying. During our journey I picked up a couple of words and phrases, but it's by far not enough to understand any complex sentences. But hey, I can say 'hello' and 'thanks' to people. Aragorn, who is still busy with Sam's wound, responds but it's again too complex to understand.

"Your worry is touching," Boromir grumbles. Sarcasm? Seriously?

I grin at him. "Self interest, you know. If you kick the bucket, I'd have to find someone else to save my ass." That comment earns me a short but sincere sounding chuckle from Gimli. Boromir snorts and proceeds to ignore me. Maybe I should mess with someone else next time, or I might really have to ask someone else to save my ass in the future. Looking at this realistically, I might have to do that anyway.

Once Aragorn is done, he takes a look at Boromir's leg. Cleaning and bandaging it only takes a couple of minutes, and once the fire is put out we get going. It's already late afternoon and the sun is setting behind the Misty Mountains, covering the world in a soft, golden light. At this point I'm pretty sure that we are only a few miles away from Lórien's borders. Aragorn confirms that a minute later and adds: "Remember, the sooner we cross the borders, the sooner you will enjoy a hot meal, a soft bed and the beauty of Lórien!"

The prospect of food and a bed makes the hobbits get a move on. I'm looking forward to these things too, but taking a bath is pretty much at the top of my priority list right now. And getting out of my blood stained clothing, even if that means wearing dresses. Again.

Darkness falls around us, as the sun completely vanishes behind the mountains. That's bad. I wonder how fast Moria orcs can run? The forest has gotten a lot denser, but it still looks normal to me. No Mallorn Trees in sight far. Legolas is meanwhile walking in the back with the hobbits, probably to listen for pursuers. I've stayed with Aragorn and Boromir somewhere in front.

After a while Legolas closes up to us, a tense expression on his face. This can't be good. "We are being followed," he whispers. "The goblins from the Mines are trailing us, if I am not mistaken. The wind is carrying their noise, which is why I cannot say how far behind us they are. But they are catching up quickly."

"They must be really pissed that we got away and killed their troll," I mutter.

"Yes," Aragorn says. "But I fear that we might have killed one of their leaders as well. Orcs tend to chase their enemies relentlessly and over great distances, if they have to avenge a chief. We need to make it to the border or this will be an ill night for us." More like 'our last night ever'. Aragorn turns around to the others. "Hurry! We must cross the river Nimrodel before we can rest." In a lower voice he adds: "We cannot go much further today. Let us hope that the power of the elves will protect us tonight."

With a shudder I remember our flight from the wargs a couple of days ago. It's kind of ironic, actually. We got away from the wargs by fleeing into Moria, only to get chased through it by a horde of angry orcs. And now we are running for the forest, still with a horde of even angrier orcs on our heels. Fun times, man.

Even after Aragorn's words it takes us a couple of hours to reach the Nimrodel stream. The Arthelas water helped with our arches and banished some of the tiredness, but now they're slowly creeping back into my mind. It's already dark when I finally hear the sound of flowing water somewhere ahead. A minute or two later we stand at the shore of a small stream. Silver tree trunks and golden leafs are barely visible in the darkness on the other side. These must be Mallorn Trees! Cool.

"Alas, we will only see Lórien in winter," Legolas whispers somewhere next to me. "Let us cross the stream. It is not deep and in the old stories it is said, it would cure the weary." In a lower voice he adds: "And crossing it might throw the orcs off our tracks." He probably doesn't want to scare the hobbits even more. After the stuff we've been through today, it's probably for the best.

Aragorn nods slowly. "Yes. Can you still hear them? I am worried about leading orcs into Lórien."

Legolas tilts his head a little, listening intently. I, too, listen, but the only things I can hear, are the sounds of my companions, flowing water and the rustling of leafs in the wind. Legolas looks up again, a tense expression on his face. "They are catching up."

Well, shit. Aragorn mutters something under his breath, that sounds suspiciously like a curse. "It seems we have no chance but to try, then." Louder, he says: "Come, now. The water here is shallow and we can cross it easily." The amount of optimism he managed to inject into his voice for the last part is amazing. I have no idea how he manages to do that in a situation as dire as this one. And I'll have to ask about elvish swear words at some point...

Hm, the elves won't be happy about us leading a metric ton of orcs to their doorstep, that's for sure. But we should be fine. Defending the Ring has the highest priority, after all. And we aren't even bringing an entire army with us, like they did in Battle for Middle Earth. We'll be fine.

Together, we clamber down the steep, rocky riverbank. The water itself isn't even knee high, just as Aragorn said. It's cold, clean and wakes me up a little. Once we have made it to the other side, we take a break at the grassy clearing next to the stream. Legolas tells us about the songs that are sung about the Nimrodel and its waterfalls and the bridge, that stood here long ago.

We lapse into silence, listening to the falls. I glance up at the few stars, that are already visible. Are they the same the people at home would see? I've been gone for nearly three months now, even though it feels like ages had passed since the attack. I wonder how everyone's doing at home. Are they looking for me? Chances are I'll find out in a couple of days. Heck, my whole part in this adventure might end soon, depending on Galadriel's ability to send me home.

Legolas' voice brings me back to reality. "Did you hear it? The voice of the Lady Nimrodel?" I haven't heard anything but water, but the dreamy looks on the hobbits' faces suggest that it might be different with them. Legolas sings the Ballad of the Lady Nimrodel for us in a low voice. The song is beautiful, even though Legolas apologizes for the bad translation to Westron. It makes me wonder how the elvish version might sound.

When the culture of the Galadrim becomes the topic of the conversation, Aragorn chimes in and decides that we should sleep in the trees like the elves do it to avoid orc attacks. Neither the hobbits nor I are very enthusiastic about this. Me, because I suck at climbing trees and the hobbits probably because they dislike heights. Oh, well. This is going to be interesting. Gotta take that Hunger Game advice and tie myself to the tree or something.

Aragorn chooses a tree a little off of the way and sends Legolas to climb it and look for a place to spend the night. While the elf simply leaps into the air and grabs the lowest branch, I stare up the smooth, silver tree trunk and wonder how the hell I'm supposed to get up there. Should have climbed more trees when I was a kid, I guess. Meanwhile the hobbits are discussing a very similar problem.

Only a second later Legolas drops back to the ground with a surprised shout. My hand shoots to the hilt of my sword, but Aragorn holds up a hand. Elvish voices and laughter drift down to us. I have no clue what they are saying, but Legolas replies quickly in the same language.

"Who are they and what are they saying," Merry asks curiously.

Legolas turns around, a smile on his face. "They are wood elves! They will not harm us, but they said we were breathing so loud they could have shot us in the dark." Sam clamps a hand over his mouth at that. Legolas chuckles when he sees that. "They heard my song about the river Nimrodel. That is how they knew I was of their kin from Mirkwood. They wish to talk to Frodo and me, for they know of our quest." As soon as he's finished talking, a gray rope ladder is dropped down from the tree. After Frodo and Legolas are out of sight, we sit down and keep watch.

"Sleeping on trees," Sam grumbles with a frown. "We are hobbits, not birds!"

"You will survive it," Aragorn says with a smile. "And the elves do not sleep on bare branches, Sam, but on platforms they call flets."

"And what if you roll off?" Pippin sounds pretty scared. I can tell he isn't convinced by all of this, at all.

Aragorn shrugs. "You can try to dig a hole in the ground, if you like," he suggests dryly. "But you will have to dig quickly, if you wish to hide from the orcs." Pippin snorts, even though there is a slight smile on Aragorn's lips. Now, that we've made it to Lórien and found a safe place to spend the night, the mood has improved drastically.

It takes a while, but finally Legolas climbs back down to us, another elf in tow. "They have invited us to their flets. The hobbits will sleep on this tree. We others will spend the night on a different one together with Orophin." He gestures at the elf clad in green and gray. The hobbits quickly collect their stuff and climb up the ladder.

Orophin, meanwhile, leads us over to a different tree and says something in his own language. "They have food and blankets for us up there," Legolas translates. Upon hearing that, Aragorn has us hide our stuff in a pile of leafs. Orophin has already climbed up the tree and throws a rope ladder down to us.

The way up is surprisingly long and the fact that the ladder is moving beneath my feet is creeping me out way more than I care to admit. When I finally make it to the fleet, Aragorn offers me a hand and easily pulls me onto the wooden platform. Everyone else is already sitting on furs and blankets in a circle. I quickly help Gimli, who climbed up behind me and is looking even more distraught by the ladder than I feel. He thanks me with a gruff nod.

I quickly move to sit with Boromir and Aragorn. Orophin has produced some food and drink from one of the bags laying next to him, offering us a second dinner, that's way better than the first one we had. I can't help but smile when I think about how happy this will make the hobbits.

Orophin tells us – translated by Legolas – that we'll continue our journey early the next day, because orcs have been spotted seen near the border. He also seems concerned that the orcs from Moria might follow us across the Nimrodel and that they might even move by under us during the night.

Dinner doesn't take long, since all of us are pretty tried. Once we are finished, everyone grabs an armful of furs and blankets and lies down. Even though the flet is pretty big, the fellowship sticks surprisingly close together. I watch curiously as Orophin puts up some kind of screen made from silver fabric on the side of the flet to protect us from the cold wind from the mountains. Once he's done, he pulls up the ladder and sits down at the edge, his bow next to him. I lie on my back and watch the pale, golden leafs move in the moonlight, until I drift off into sleep.

The rattling of armor and the sound of steps wakes me up a couple of hours later. I blindly feel for my sword belt next to me. Having it next to me on my bedroll has become a habit of mine since we got attacked by the wargs before Moria. I sit up, shivering in the cold night air. Low shouts echo up to us. I take a look around the flet. Legolas and Aragorn are sitting on the edge of the felt, starring down into the darkness beneath us. Orophin, however, is gone. Looks like he was right about the Moria orcs.

The minutes drag on as the horde passes under us and it takes even longer for their noise to fade in the distance. I lie down again, one hand resting on the leather wrapped hilt of my sword, but it takes a while until I fall asleep again.

It feels like only a few minutes have passed when I'm awoken by Boromir. Orophin is still gone and another elf is talking to Legolas in a language that sounds different than the Elvish Legolas and Aragorn normally use.

While we eat breakfast, Legolas tells us how the three elves led the orcs away from our trees with assumed voices. Orophin had also been sent to Caras Galadhon to alert the warriors there, so the orcs would be dealt with once they were near enough to the capital. "None of them will leave these woods alive," Legolas concludes with a grim expression. That's good to hear, I guess.

We leave the flet soon after. The hobbits are already waiting for us, all of them happy to once again stand on solid ground. Especially Sam, who is busy looking at the Mallorn trees with a curious expression.

The third elf is with them as well. Turns out he is Haldir and the only one of our guides who is fluent in Westron. The other elf is called Rúmil and – like Orophin – a brother of Haldir. All of them are clad in green and gray robes, that look a lot like the stuff Legolas is wearing. They have silvery hair and dark eyes, but the same beautiful voices and elegant movements I already noticed in the elves of Rivendell.

Haldir quickly tells us that we are to be brought before the Lord and Lady of Lórien in Carad Galadhon, but there's a problem: Gimli has to go blindfolded, because that's what the laws of Lórien say. This, of course causes a long and heated argument between the dwarf, elves and Aragorn. Since most of it is carried out in Elvish between Haldir, Rúmil and Aragorn, I have no clue what's going on for the most part. At some point Haldir takes a step towards Gimli, causing the dwarf to draw his ax and the elves to nock arrows in an instant. Aragorn manages to calm everyone down, fortunately, by suggesting that everyone should be blindfolded. That pisses off Legolas, aaaand here we go again.

A couple of minutes later Aragorn has somehow managed to get everyone on board with his plan. Haldir and Rúmil watched the whole thing and I'm pretty sure that the first one translated the gist of it for the latter one, who looked like he had to suppress a chuckle a couple of times. The wood-elves seem to be a whole lot less serious than the ones in Rivendell.

Gimli keeps grumbling under his breath the entire time Haldir and his bro put blindfolds on the fellowship. Once they are done, we are handed a very smooth and light rope to hold on to. Then we get going.

While we are led through the forest, Haldir tells us a bit more about Lórien, how afraid everyone is of the Enemy and how he's sorry about the anti-dwarf laws. Gimli seems to grudgingly accept the apology. The paths, we are led on, are smooth and straight and no one stumbles. Around what is probably noon we stop on what I suspect is a clearing, since I can feel the sun on my skin, and I'm handed some bread, dried fruit and water.

After the break we continue to walk for the rest of the day. It grows a little cooler and the wind picks up. The rustling of leafs above our heads nearly makes me miss the low voices somewhere ahead. There seem to be a couple of elves, talking in Elvish, but I can understand next to nothing. They greet Rúmil and Haldir when we come closer, but that's all I can understand.

"Here are messengers sent by the Lord and Lady. It has been decided, that you are allowed to walk with your eyes open from now on. They know of your quest and wish to speak with you." Fabric rustles as the blindfolds are removed from someone on my left. Haldir says something to Gimli, but it's drowned out by a loud "WHOA!" from Pippin.

I'm wondering what's going on, when my blindfold is removed by some elf's clever fingers. I blink a couple of times at the light, before I can really take in the sight ahead.

We are standing on a treeless hill. Ahead a path is leading down and into the golden wood, vanishing between gray trunks. Silver lights seem to be gleaming between the trees, but that isn't even the coolest thing. A couple of miles ahead some kind of green mountain is rising out of the surrounding woods. But it's not your regular stone-and-earth mountain. It's the golden treetops of the tallest Mallorn trees in the entire forest. They are glittering in the evening sun, as the leafs move in the wind.

"Definitely whoa," I mutter, gaping at the city, that is sparkling even more than a twilight joke.

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	12. Pieces of the Puzzle

**Chapter 11: Pieces of the Puzzle**

I stare at the elven city. If I hadn't known it was build in trees, I'd probably mistaken it for a castle with golden and green towers. Most of the others are reacting in similar ways, especially the hobbits. Aragorn and Legolas are meanwhile watching the scene unfold with bemused expressions. The best reaction is Gimli's, because he is desperately trying to mask the awe on his face, but it's just not working.

"You are in luck, Master Dwarf," one of the elves comments dryly. He's one of the messengers from Caras Galadhon and clad in gray like Haldir and his brothers. His hood is pushed back, revealing long, silver hair. "For you are the first dwarf to lay eyes on our city since the days of Durin." He smiles, but I'm not sure if it's sincere. Elves are a bitch to read. But it's still nice to see that people have stopped being complete idiots because of the elf/dwarf issue for now.

Gimli bows stiffly. "Thank you," he grunts. "I feel honored to be invited to your city." After being on the road with Gimli for so long I'm pretty sure that he truly means what he's saying, even if it's a little reluctant and as gruff as ever. Cool! We are getting closer and closer to the most epic bromance in all of Middle Earth!

Haldir and the other elf exchange a couple of lines in their own tongue, before Haldir returns his attention to us. "The orcs hunting you have been dealt with. A few stragglers are fleeing towards the mountains, but they are being tracked. None of them shall leave these woods alive." A sigh of relief goes through the fellowship as he says that, but he isn't done yet. "With them was a small, boney creature, but it escaped. Our archers did not dare shot it, for they could not tell if it was friend or foe." Ah, looks like Gollum is still following us. Good thing the warriors of Lórien killed off the orcs. I was a little scared we'd have to battle them, or some of them could escape back to Moria. Things are turning out well for us, so far.

"We shall rest here for a while, before we continue to Caras Galadhon," Haldir adds and turns to the other elves, who are talking amongst themselves. Aragorn wanders off to the edge of the clearing, while Frodo and Sam gaze at the distant city and talk in low voices.

I sit down on the fragrant grass. Even though it's growing wild, the grass here is somehow softer and prettier than the stuff my father is growing at home. And that grass is being fertilized and raked and god knows what he's doing with it. Looks like my father should get himself an elvish gardener. The sun is setting behind us and shadows are creeping out from under the trees. As it's getting darker, colorful lanterns are lit in the city. Looks like elves love lanterns.

The sound of someone approaching makes me look up. Boromir has come over, hands clasped behind his back, and a weird expression on his face. It looks a little like he's torn between mistrust and complete awe. "Aragorn has a talent for choosing impressive roads," he comments and sits down next to me in a very inelegant manner. "I have to give him that." Poor guy is still has a bad limp, but whenever someone comments on it, he manages to slink away way faster than it should have been physically possible.

"Yeah, sure looks like it." A nice way to say 'we're running from one fail to the next'. "I should make a list of the places I want to see before we finish the quest. Let's see how many we'll visit." We won't get Erebor and Mirkwood, that's for sure. Well, except canon kicks the bucket in a very spectacular fashion. Or if I ended up taking a very different route than everyone else. "We got Rivendell, Caradhras and Moria so far. Caras Galadhon is only a couple of hours out and -" I grin, "- we won't even have to fight storms or monsters for a change."

"Indeed," Boromir says with a chuckle. "But you should still be careful. Not everyone who seems friendly is truly your friend."

I can't help but roll my eyes at that. Yes, he is technically right - I learned that from watching and reading Game of Thrones. But I'm not sure how much it applies to Lórien. "This is together with Rivendell the place I'd expect enemies the least. I mean-" I look around the hill. Frodo, Aragorn and Haldir are gone, while everyone else is either sitting or lying in the grass. "- This place is so peaceful." I frown and pause for a second. "Is there even anything like evil elves? Like, Ringwraith-level of evil?" I, at least, haven't heard of something like that. I know what he's getting at, though. It's probably best to stay on my guard, since I have no clue about the agendas of people here.

Boromir is silent for a couple of seconds, probably mentally sorting through all the myths he knows. "I have not heard of such a thing. But that must not mean anything. You should ask my brother instead. He knows more about the old stories than I do." Or I could ask Aragorn. He seems to know a ton about Middle Earth lore as well, even though he hides it most of the time. Should have read the Silmarillion back home, damn it.

"Would you like to add Minas Tirith to that list of yours?" I glance up at Boromir. "I could show you around the city once this is over." Minas Tirith is pretty high on my list anyway, probably on first place together with the Shire and the Argonath.

"Uh, sure. It would be an honor..." I don't look at him, as I speak. Sadly I'd have break a promise and kill canon for that. With consequences that might kill all of us, anyway. But seriously, how hard can it be? If some dumb Mary Sue can find a way to save the story, so can I. It can't be that hard, as long as the key points go as they should.

As long as Frodo, Sam and Gollum somehow get to Mt. Doom, we should be fine. We'll have to win a couple of battles, but that shouldn't be a problem as long as we get the Ents. The real problem would be Denethor and how he could get in Aragorn's way, if he really wanted. It worked out in BfME, but that game didn't give a shit about politics and Denethor got ignored anyway, since the player took his place without having to knock people out first. Plus it gave people the chance to rebuild their entire army before the final battle. That's a luxury we won't have here.

We'd be fucked if we lost too many people on the Pelenor Fields.

Technically my presence here should be enough to screw up canon, right? But things went exactly like they were supposed to. Apart from the random troll, my encounter with Gollum and different conversation paths. So that's a good sign... I just hope it stays like that. After all there are still tones of times where the butterfly effect could bite our collective ass, especially now, that the fellowship will start interacting with others.

We look at the city in silence. More and more lights appear between the leafs as dusk falls. The elves who are staying with us have lit silver lanterns too, bathing the clearing in a cool light. Aragorn, Frodo and Haldir are just returning as well. Looks like we'll get going soon. Aragorn is holding a small, golden flower and has a weirdly happy smile plastered onto his face. I wonder whats going on there...

Frodo is wandering over to the other hobbits, who are laughing about some joke. Haldir, meanwhile, checks if anyone is missing. "Let us continue, for the Lord and Lady are awaiting you in Caras Galadhon," he says, easily catching the hobbits' attention with his clear voice.

"Looks like the break's over." I get up and offer Boromir a hand, but he ignores it. With a shrug I wipe some dirt off of my cloths. Not like that did anything, considering the amount of blood splattered across the front of my mail shirt, pants and cloak. It takes only a couple of minutes for everyone to get ready and soon the elves are leading us down into the forest again, lanterns in their hands.

This night is even stranger than when Boromir and I arrived in Rivendell. It's weird, but this place feels old. Not dusty-old, but from-a-different-age-old, if that makes any sense. If Gil-Galad had leaped out from behind a bush and had tried to recruit people for the Last Alliance, I wouldn't have been surprised in the least. After a while we leave the path and step out onto a broad patch of grass. We are maybe a hundred meters from the green walls of the city, plus there seems to be a ditch surrounding it.

"Welcome to Caras Galadhon, where the Lord and Lady of Light dwell." Haldir gestures at the city ahead, but since we are just staring at a high wall it comes off pretty anticlimactic. Haldir seems to realize that and continues quickly. "We will have to go round the hill, since the gates are facing southwards. It is a long way. The city is big." He leads us to a way made from white cobble stones and we slowly follow the bend of the circular wall. He is right, it does take quite a while, but we've been walking all day and I stopped giving a crap about five miles ago.

After what feels like an eternity, we finally make it to a set of huge wooden gates illuminated by golden lanterns. Haldir steps forward and knocks softly. He whispers a couple of words I don't catch, and the heavy gates glide open without a sound. It reminds me of the Moria doors, but luckily the elves don't seem to hire Hentai Monsters with anger issues as bouncers. We walk through a dark tunnel with leafs and twigs for walls and roof. I wonder how this kind of wall is going to protect anyone in case of an attack. Meh, elven magic probably. We enter the city through a second set of wooden doors made from silver wood, but when I look around there are no guards in sight. Maybe they have other tunnels running through the hedge-wall-thingy?

The innards of the city are way more interesting than anything we saw from the outside. The trees here have thick, silver and gray trunks, and are higher than anything I've ever seen – minus the sequoias I saw in the USA maybe. The lanterns I saw are blinking high above our heads between golden leafs. I can't see the elves, but their voices are filling the air. They seem to be chilling on the flets above our heads.

The way Haldir is taking is long and confusing. We climb a ton of white stairs with decorated handrails, cross empty plazas, a bridge and a couple of gardens. It's obvious this place is a city with more than a few people living in it, but it has zero buildings on the ground, making it look rather alien to me. The few structures I can see in the faint light are all constructed from gray or white wood, decorated with intricate flower or twine designs.

After a while we make it to the center of the city: a grassy hill with one giant Mallorn on the top. No matter how big the other trees had looked a minute ago, this one makes all of them look rather small. A circular staircase with flower designs leads around its trunk to the flets build between its massive branches. It is guarded by three elves in gray armor, armed with shields and mean looking spears. I can feel their eyes passing over me as we walk towards them.

One of the guards blows a little horn and moments later a similar signal is sounded far above our heads. The guards step to the side and bow slightly as we pass them. Haldir leads us to the foot of the staircase and stops. "I will go first. Frodo and Legolas shall walk behind me. The others may follow as they please." Okay, I shouldn't be surprised about the use of some protocol at court but it's still a little weird. "But be warned. It is a long climb. You may take breaks if you tire on the way up. Climbing these stairs must be exhausting for those not used to them." And with these words we get going.

Haldir sure as hell didn't lie when he talked about the length of the staircase. At first I count the stairs, but after the two-hundredth some elves on a nearby flet – or talan, as Haldir calls it – distract me and I loose count. Instead I focus on Aragorn, who is walking in front of me and try to keep his pace without falling over my own feet. We pass flets of all kinds of sizes, some empty and some with elves watching our every move. They don't seem to be suspicious or anything to me. Just curious. Others simply ignore us. Most of them are clad in gray and white with silver hair and a faint light about them.

When we finally make it to the top – I didn't pause, so my legs feel like they'd give out if I had to climb one more step and the bruises on my ribs have started to hurt again – I find myself standing in front of a hall built around the tree trunk. The walls are made from the same gray wood as the other flets, the roof is gold and light green drapes adorn the walls. There are no doors, though.

I try to stay in the background as we enter the hall. A bunch of elves in fine clothing are sitting on pillows at the walls, studying us with motionless faces. I had heard them whisper among themselves when we were still outside, waiting for Merry and Sam, who had fallen behind a bit. Now they've fallen silent. I look ahead and spy Galadriel and Celeborn, who have gotten up from their chairs in the middle of the hall. They are looking serious and graceful, but at the same time way friendlier than Lord Elrond. Both are dressed in white with silver leaf circlets on their heads. And naturally they are surrounded by the obligatory elf light. Both of them look relatively young, even though their eyes betray their true age.

Once everyone is there, Celeborn invites us to take seats on a couple of pillows scattered before their chairs, completely ruining my plan of hiding behind Aragorn to go unnoticed. The Elf Lord greets all of us by name – or alias in my case, as he calls me Laura of Rohan. Galadriel is just standing next to him in silence, watching us with stern, incredibly old eyes, that somehow don't fit her otherwise youthful looks.

The conversation starts and seems to follow the course it takes in canon. Since I already know it, I zone out a little, glancing around the hall and taking in the intricate designs on the tapestries on the walls.

Aragorn, Legolas and Celeborn are still talking about Gandalf's fall. I'm a little distracted, since I already know what's going on, so I notice way too late that Galadriel has begun her mind reading thing. The sudden sound of her voice in my thoughts makes me jolt a little on my pillow.

_Laura Hoffmann. I need to speak with you._

For a second I consider pulling an Eragon and trying to somehow hide my knowledge, but that's probably pretty useless and I don't really know how it's supposed to work, anyway. So I just suppress a sigh as I think-speak my reply. Why? What about?

_We shall talk about that once your friends have left. It is of importance to me, and it may concern you._

Okay, then. Sure, I'll talk to you. At this point I have no clue what's going on, but if I had to guess, I'd say it's about earth.

_And you would be right,_ Galadriel says. _Let me ask you one more thing, and consider it carefully. If you had to choose between going home and going on with the fellowship, what would you do? Consider where the quest might lead you. But even I cannot see to its end through the darkness ahead._

I pause and think of my family and friends at home, their faces more real then ever in my mind. My sister and how I promised her to show up for her birthday after the LARP, Mark, who might not even be alive, one of my online friends leading our LoL team as the new captain after I had gone missing. Explaining stuff to them would probably be way easier than staying here and trying to live through a freaking war, where I'll probably end up on the front line. In the end I'm not even needed for all of this, as long as it plays out like canon.

On the other hand it's kind of my duty to help out with the quest, since I'm a member of the fellowship now. Even if it's easier to go home and forget about everything that happened, I doubt I could do it at this point. There is no way I'll just back out now. I actually feel ashamed for even considering leaving the others. I glance down at my boots.

I can feel Galadriel withdrawing from my mind, so I quickly formulate the question that has been bothering me for a while now. Do you think it's right that I'm here?

_I do not know the reason for your presence here, but know that nothing happens without a reason._

Galadriel seems pleased as she leaves my mind and for a moment the ghost of a smile passes her face. Looks like I passed her little test. Yay! From the corners of my eyes I watch as Galadriel focuses on Gimli, who is standing next to me. I sigh with relief. That could have gone way worse. And Galadriel's weird, cryptic answer is better than some steaming pile of horseshit prophecy. At least in my opinion, that is. I'm wondering if she's serious about sending me home, though. There's a good chance she just said that as part of the test, but I'll have to see about that. It's not like I could even consider going home before Sauron is dealt with.

But the fact that she knows about my background is seriously bothering me. On one hand I'm looking forward to hearing news from home, but on the other side I'm seriously worried it's bad news.

The rest of the conversation passes in a blur. I'm way too nervous to pay attention, so I just wait for everyone to finish talking. After an eternity, that still seems to be way too short, Celeborn rises again and wishes us a good night. The other elves get up as well and walk out quietly. The fellowship, me included, gets up too. After a quick bow everyone but me leaves for the stairs. Luckily no one seems to question that I stay behind. I get a couple of curious looks, but nobody says anything.

I just stand there in front of Galadriel's chair, anxious and feeling more out of place than ever. Celeborn glances at Galadriel, before he turns around and moves deeper into the hall and out of sight. The rest of the fellowship is waiting for me at the top of the stairs, but Galadriel gestures at them to go on. I watch as they disappear down the stairs one by one, until only Boromir is left. He gives me a look that's Boromir-speak for 'what the hell are you doing?'. I shake my head at him and he follows the others. Actually, I would have felt a whole lot less uncomfortable if he had stayed.

And just like that, we are alone. Awesomeness.

I draw a deep breath as I turn to face the Lady of Light. She is still standing in front of her chair and is now giving me a critical look over. At this point I'm feeling like I did, when I ended up before my old school's headmaster. Only that he had been a friendly, humorous guy. With him you could be sure, that he'd laugh about the prank you pulled and let you go, as long as you didn't screw over someone else. I somehow doubt Galadriel would react with a laugh if someone carried a car into her throne room.

When she doesn't break the silence after a couple more minutes, I decide to take the initiative. "So... What is it you wished to talk about, my Lady?" I'm not exactly sure how to address her, but since that's how Haldir referred to her, it can't be completely wrong. Plus that's what people said in the books, too.

Galadriel's face doesn't betray her thoughts, as she starts to speak in a low voice. "For a while now I have been seing things in my mirror, which I did not understand. Cities and palaces built from glass and steel, Men in garments different from anything I have ever seen." Sounds, like she saw Earth. That can't be good. "You, however, carry memories of such places." That's not a question.

"Yeah." I draw out the word, raking my brain for an explanation. "I'm not, uhm, from here." This whole conversation smells like trouble.

Galadriel nods. "I guessed that much. It is truly strange that our worlds had to collide in such a strange way. In a time like this, no less." She smiles sadly. Yeah, this is going to be bad.

"So, uhm, do you know how I ended up here?" If she knows that, she might know how I can return home, too. And since she has seen so much other stuff it's a fair assumption that she has seen that as well. The NSA would _love_ to get their hands on this woman.

"Yes, I do." She hesitates for a moment. "But before we continue, you need to know that I do not posses the magic used to create such a rift between worlds." Oh, shit. "This means I will not be able to return you to your home, even if the quest succeeds."

I stare at her for a couple of seconds as the reality of what she just said sinks in. She can't send me home. I feel like someone dumped a bucket of ice cubes into my stomach. If she can't, who else is there? She's one of the most powerful people in Middle Earth, after all. My voice is shaking, when I speak, even though I try to hide it. "So, who opened that rift?" I have a theory, but maybe I'm wrong. Please.

"There are not many who can do such a thing, for it requires strong, evil magic." Goddamnit. "It could have been Saruman or maybe the Lord of Mordor. They posses enough power, as well as the required knowledge, as it seems. There are others, but these are the most likely."

"Oh." It's not like there is much more to say. "So, what now?" I glance at Galadriel. "I mean, it's not like I could just go to one of them and ask them and ask them if they would be so kind to let me use their magic portal, or something." Plus it's not like they'll survive the war, and if they did, Middle Earth would be screwed, me most likely included. Either a hand full of guys from earth is fucked, of everyone is fucked. Great. Sounds like the perfect situation for some greater good bullshit. Only that it's way harder to think that way, if you're in the situation yourself.

"There may be other ways, but they are hidden from me. Since the shadow has risen in the east, there are many things which I cannot see from afar." Galadriel pauses, sadness in her voice. She starts pacing, hands clasped behind her back. Okay, whatever is coming now, must be bothering her quite a lot. Huh. "There is something else you should know. But remember, that what I am telling you now might have already happened. Or it might not happen at all."

I nod slowly, bracing myself for the bad news. "Things that have been, things that are and some things that have not yet come to pass. Got it."

Galadriel turns around, a small smile on her face, and slowly walks back towards the pillows we've been sitting on. "Yes, indeed. That is a good way of putting it." The smile vanishes and is replaced by a very grave expression. "I saw only small glimpses of your home, too little to comprehend the whole story. But what I saw were pictures of destruction. Towers of glass falling, burning cities. People on the streets, trying to flee from the servants of the enemy. Not just goblins or trolls, but wraiths and even worse creatures. Men with weapons I have never seen, fighting against armies of orcs. I can not say if this is what happens if the quest fails or if it is already happening. Or it might happen in hundreds of years. I do not know."

All I can do, is stare at her while I try to wrap my head around what she just told me. Imagining Earth being attacked by orcs is completely absurd. But me standing here and talking to Galadriel is equally absurd. The fact that I'm just standing here because I fell down some stupid hill after an orc attacked me, changes it a little. Sure, if those guys managed to come to Earth, why wouldn't more follow? That's really fucking bad. "So, my home is being overrun by god-knows-what and I'm stuck here because you don't know how that spell works," I conclude with a sigh. It comes out angrier than I meant it to be, but that doesn't seem to bother Galadriel too much.

"Remember what I told you! This might never come to pass," she reminds me firmly. "It might happen if Frodo fails. But if you succeed, your home would be safe. Without the will of their master guiding them, they do not stand a chance against the weapons of your people." I can hear a slight hint of desperation in her voice, as she says that.

"But..." I pause and look down with a sigh. There is no point in arguing with her about this. She is right and I can only guess what's going on back home. Heck, she probably knows more than me, since she saw the stuff in the mirror first hand. Instead, I bow stiffly. "Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it, you know." Damnit, my voice is shaking way more than I'd like, as I say that.

She bows her head a little. "I am sorry." Galadriel steps back to her chair. "If I find out anything, I will let you know."

I nod. "Thank you." Looks like my audience is over. "Good night, my Lady."

I'm about to turn around and leave, but Galadriel rises her hand to stop me. For a second I catch a glimpse of what might have been a star on her finger. "This does not have to happen. Do not let it influence your decisions." Sounds like the ancient Greek prophecy stuff: If you try to stop it, it'll come true for sure. Great. She smiles again, but it's a sad smile.

I nod again and leave as quick as I can, without actually running. I can feel her stare bore into my back, until I finally reach the door and step out into the cool night air. I'm so glad to be out of there. I do trust Galadriel, but knowing that she can look straight into one's head makes talking to her kind of awkward.

I feel completely numb, as I slowly walk down the stairs. Galadriel's words are still bouncing around inside my head, combined with mental images. Hell, I'm not even sure if my brain provided those or if Galadriel somehow showed them to me. Even though she said I shouldn't worry about it, I can't help but imagine how my home might look like now, how everyone's doing and if they are under attack, too. That conversation sparked more questions than it answered and now part of me wishes, I never had gotten these information.

I walk past some elves on talans, but ignore them. Once I'm back on the ground, one of the guards says something in Elvish and points. I don't understand everything he says, but figure, that he's pointing me into the direction of my companions. "_Le channon_," I mutter.

I walk around the massive Mallorn trunk, until the camp comes into view. The elves set up a couple of small tents between the roots of the massive tree and there are backpacks lying on the floor between them. I had expected to find everyone already asleep, but to my surprise Boromir is still awake. He is sitting next to the small campfire, polishing his blade. He looks up, when I walk past him. I'm not really in the mood to talk to people right now, so I just nod at him and ask: "Are we on watch duty?"

"Good evening to you, too," Boromir comments sarcastically. "And no." He puts down the sword and the piece of cloth and gives me a strange look.

"Right, sorry," I mutter, too distracted to really care about my manners. "Good night."

I walk over to the smallest, still empty tent and lift the canvass. Inside, I can see the outlines of a camp bed and a small table inside. Boromir stops me before I can go in. "What did she tell you?" He sounds worried.

"Nothing. I'm fine," I say mechanically, but hesitate. Boromir knows my story. Heck, he's the only one who knows, besides Galadriel - except Gandalf knew and told people. But that's pretty unlikely. I could tell him about everything. In theory. The question is, do I want to do that?

"Truly convincing," the Gondorian comments drily.

I drop the canvass and turn around again. "Thanks." After thinking it over for another second or two, I sigh, drop my pack and sit down next to Boromir. I stare into the cinders of the campfire, wondering how I should start. "Do you remember, what I told you back in Rivendell?"

"Yes?" Boromir's face has taken on a worried expression.

"Good. Galadriel knew about it, too. Because of her mind reading stuff. She came across it somehow." I glance at the distant trees. A couple of lanterns are hanging between their branches, but they are too far away to light up our camp. Instead, they only leave a light silver sheen on the grass. I take a deep breath. "She can't send me back." That's it. I don't cry easily, but this is too much. I angrily wipe the tears away with my sleeve and glare daggers at the trees.

Boromir mutters something under his breath, that sounds like a curse. "I am very sorry," he adds in Westron.

I nod, not trusting my voice.

"But Galadriel and Celeborn are not the only ones with great knowledge of such... things." Boromir pauses for a moment, before he continues. "Elrond might be able to help you. And I am sure my father would grant you entrance to his library, if I asked him. He has collected many old texts, written by wise men. You might find something there." I'm pretty sure he's grasping at straws here and there's desperation in his voice.

"Thanks." I'm genuinely thankful for his offer, even if I doubt that it'll help me in the end. "But Galadriel said, dark magic was used to get us here. I always thought, I'd just go home, once all of this is over." Just like Frodo did. Looks like I'm having my 'oh shit' moment way earlier than him. Good thing, that it's here, in a situation where no one else is listening or we have to be afraid of being attacked.

"You will return to your home. I am sure of that," Boromir says quietly.

"Thank you. I mean, I really like you guys. And this place, as long as we aren't fighting stuff or run from monsters. But..." My voice breaks. I think back to our arrival in Rivendell and the weeks there. It feels like ages had passed since then. "...there's something else." And with that I spill the other things Galadriel told me.

Once I'm finished, the grass next to me rustles as Boromir moves to sit next to me. A second later I find myself in an awkward bear hug, crying into Boromir's tunic.

And I always thought, Aragorn was the Fellowship's personal psychologist.

**Holy crap, that was a lot of drama. The story should continue on a lighter note for the next couple of chapters, though. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the quick update today. Thanks to everyone for reviewing, faving, following and reading!**

**Stormrunner and Lutfie:**** Thanks, guys! I'm glad you are enjoying the characters :D**


	13. Lórien

**Chapter 12: Lórien**

I wake up to bright sunlight filtering through the roof of my tent. I know it's been only a few weeks since we left Rivendell, but right now I feel like I hadn't slept on a soft mattress in ages. I pull the blanket over my head in a futile attempt to block out the sun so that I can to doze for a little longer. Now that I'm not extremely tired and had a night to think about it, my reaction from yesterday evening seems a little over the top. I should at least talk to Gandalf and maybe Elrond to see if they can help me, before I give up or do something stupid.

"I'm an idiot," I mutter.

I should probably go and thank Boromir. Or maybe apologize to him. I'm not exactly sure which one is more appropriate, so maybe I should just go and try both. Damnit, I hate doing this kind of stuff, but what can you do. After all, I cried into his shoulder for about an hour, before I went to sleep. Poor guy.

Scratch that, it seems like I've become a whiny idiot. Maybe I should go ahead and blackmail him so he won't ever mention that bit to the rest of the fellowship.

The voices outside are slowly getting louder. I try to ignore them and it works as long as it's only Aragorn and Legolas talking, but once the hobbits get up there is no way in hell I can go back to sleep. Especially, since it sounds like the elves left breakfast for us outside.

I peek out from under my blankets. Someone must have taken my dirty clothes away during the night and left a basket with clean stuff next to the entrance. My mail, boots and other things are still there, as well as the sword on the floor next to the bed. Holy hell, elves can be a bunch of sneaky, creepy bastards. Good thing they only use that talent for good. I hope.

I quickly dress in a simple gray shirt and some pants I found in the basket and buckle on my sword belt. It's strange to walk around without the mail shirt after barely taking it off during the last couple of weeks. My clothes feel weirdly light without it.

Fist mission of the day: Time to find a place to bathe!

When I leave the tent, most of the others are already sitting in the grass and are having breakfast. Only Sam and Gimli are still missing. I yawn a "Morning, guys" and grab some bread and fruit from the one of the plates the elves must have left us. The answers from the others suggest that they haven't had their Middle Earth coffee yet. At least I'm not the only one who's tired here. I sit down between Merry and Legolas, happy to just listen to their conversation. Everyone seems so relaxed as they talk about random stuff. No one mentions the Quest and they seem to intentionally avoid topics such as Gandalf and Moria, too. Not surprising, considering how fast bringing that up now would kill the mood.

Once breakfast is done, I set out on the epic quest to find a bath tub of some kind. Legolas described the way there for me and Boromir taught me a line of Elvish, so I could ask someone else for the way. Chances are that their answer won't help me much, since my Elvish is still horrible. But getting there turns out to be easy enough and about fifteen minutes later I'm standing in front of a bunch of stone pools separated from each other by curtains made from living leafs and flowers. It's a beautiful place. Very different form Rivendell, but still beautiful in it's own way.

I get out of my clothes as fast as humanly possible and quickly slide into a pool. The water is pleasantly warm and there are soap and a sponge lying in the grass next to it. Once I'm clean, I lean back and breath a sigh of relief. It's good to be in a safe place after everything that happened in Moria – thinking about it still makes a cold chill run down my spine, warm water or no. Wow, I'm so glad I made it out of that hell hole alive and in one piece. The whole thing was way too close. I still have no idea why the troll showed up, since everything else thus far followed the books. Are things already changing around us? But that wouldn't make any sense.

During the bath I had taken a closer look at the impressive collection of bruises I had amassed during the battle and our flight. It was really surprising how I hadn't even registered most of those hits. The scar on my arm still hasn't faded and my hair had grown since the last time I had seen my reflection weeks ago. I had also gotten a lot fitter since leaving Earth. Right now I'm probably in the best shape I have ever been.

All the training with Boromir, walking with the fellowship and living off of waybread and stuff like that is probably a lot healthier than chilling in front of a computer or in a lecture hall all day while munching on Pizza and nachos. Being stronger and having more stamina might well save my ass at some point, so there is really no reason for me to complain. The lack of Pizza here is still bothering me, though. I should give the recipe to someone once the quest is over, or better jet, open my own Pizza place and make a ton of money with it.

The day continues as chill as it started. Gimli and Legolas leave our camp at some point to check out the city, while everyone else just mills around and relaxes. Except for Merry and Pippin maybe, who jumped at the chance to eat as much as humanly - or in this case hobbitly - possible.

I'm lying in the grass and watch as the golden leafs above move in the breeze, when Pippin suddenly shoves the last bit of whatever he was eating into his mouth and walks over to where Aragorn is sitting on top of a ginormous root with his pipe in hand. The hobbit gives the human a once over and asks: "We'll have to fight again after we leave Lórien, right?"

"I am afraid so," Aragorn confirms from outside my field of vision.

"Shouldn't one of you teach us how to use these, then?" Pippin holds up his Barrow Downs sword. He does have a point. From what I've seen so far, the hobbits used their swords like baseball bats. Not the most effective way, if you ask me.

Aragorn agrees with that, but it's Boromir who ends up doing the actual teaching. He does have experience with that kind of stuff, after all. He told me in Rivendell about the soldiers he trained in Minas Tirith and the lessons I got seemed very well planed out.

Boromir instructs the hobbits to get some gloves and their swords. As soon as they return, they proceed with some super basic stuff, while a bemused Aragorn watches the whole thing from his spot on the root and comments on some of their moves. I watch form my spot in the grass, until Boromir decides that he needs someone to show certain blocks and attacks on. From that point on I end up training with them.

The hobbits are doing pretty well from what I can tell. Merry and Frodo are probably doing the best job when it comes to technique, while Pippin somehow manages to fight and eat at the same time. Sam is taking the most practical (and dirty) approach and even ended up tripping his opponent at some point.

When we finally take a break, I use that chance to go and sit with Boromir. "Uhm, thanks by the way." I rub my neck nervously. Damn it, I spent half the day planning how to do this, but now I'm kind of lost. "And sorry about yesterday... That was kind of unnecessary... And, uhm, yeah..." I trail off. "Sorry, I'm really bad at this kind of stuff..."

The Gondorian just shrugs and waves my crappy apology away. "I noticed that. There is no need to thank me." That went better than expected, I guess.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. Legolas returns with an awestruck Gimli in tow sometime around dusk, a small smile on his face. I wonder what he showed the dwarf. I _really_ need to take a look around the city before we leave Lórien.

After dinner we gather around the fire bowl. The mood is somber as we listen to an Elvish song that seems to come from the talans above our heads. I remember this scene from the movies. When asked about it, Legolas refuses to translate the song since it's about Gandalf and he wants to deal with his grief in a different way. I follow the conversation only with half an ear: It's mostly stuff I already know from the books, plus I don't want to accidentally spoil anything or appear insensitive. Okay, that's really unlikely, but having Aragorn go Sherlock Holmes on me would suck. I'm positive that he's been suspecting something for a while now, but I don't want to deal with that just yet.

It gets interesting again when Frodo stands up to sing a short song he had obviously come up with on the spot to honor Gandalf's fireworks. As soon as he is done, the hobbit sits down blushing. The other hobbits' praise seems to only make matters worse for him. After some more whispering Sam gets up and continues the song where Frodo left off a couple of minutes earlier. He seems to blush even deeper than Frodo and sits down after muttering something unintelligible.

I've seen a lot of crazy stuff in Middle Earth, but watching two people pull well written (or in this case spoken) poems out of their asses is incredibly impressive. Or my English teacher back in high school was right and I simply suck at writing poetry. "That was amazing!" I shoot Frodo and Sam a grin.

Everyone except for Gimli, who has dozed off, and Legolas, who is staring off into the distance with a sad smile on his lips, joins in on the praise. It doesn't take long until Merry and Pippin join in on the poetizing. After a while even Aragorn adds a stanza to the song and Legolas ends up offering some criticism. I'm content with just watching them talk.

"What about you?" I can't be sure in the darkness, but there seems to be a small, evil grin on Boromir's face as he asks this. Really, mate?

"Nah, thanks. You wouldn't want to hear that. Trust me." My singing is shitty and I don't want to be responsible for the Fellowship getting ear cancer. Plus talking in front of other people was never my strong suite, so this isn't anything I want to get involved in. But since I can't even come up with a decent text, this is a mute point anyway. "What about you?"

Boromir chuckles. "No. No, I am not a great poet. That is my brother's sort of thing." Even now his fond smile is clearly visible. He pauses while Aragorn adds a few lines to Pippin's stanza. "Say, do Ladies in your realm not learn to sing?"

"Uhm... no. Well, some do, if that kind of thing interests them." I shrug. "I had to sing at school once or maybe twice, but as I said. It was crappy. Give me a math problem. Or maybe a text to analyze or something. I'm better at that kind of thing."

"That sounds boring," Boromir comments with a frown. Huh. Makes me wonder what and, to a lesser extend, how people are taught in Minas Tirith. Plus it's another remainder of how useless my computer knowledge and everything related to it is here.

"Oh, you'd be surprised. Proving that a text is stupid and that the author is an idiot can be pretty entertaining." This is actually how I got through school. And as long as the teacher enjoys reading that take on the question, it's a hilarious way to get points, even if you haven't done anything besides memorizing a couple of important facts. Looking back, my high school-self was either a complete idiot or had figurative balls of steel.

"I doubt my tutor would have approved of that, but some of the authors I read indeed sounded like idiots." He pauses for a second. "It does sound a lot better than memorizing endless lists of names and dates. This would probably disappoint my father, but if there comes a day where I have to know who ruled Rohan seven-hundred years ago, I fear I will have to look it up." He shakes his head in mock despair.

"Sounds really boring. Heck, I'd probably prefer writing poetry to that. Did you at least learn about the cool stuff these guys did?" I don't know much about the history of Gondor, except for some bits of backstory mentioned in _Battle for Middle Earth_ and the books. Actually, I don't even remember that much of it. Sure, I know the stories about Elendil, Isildur and even Cirion, but that's about it. I'd love to dig through the archives to find the scrolls quoted in the books and read the original versions though, as boring as that might sound.

"Sometimes, but a lot of the time they just did minor things. Passed laws. Traveled a little to improve diplomatic relations." He shrugs and falls silent as Merry adds a hand full of verses to the song. It's nice to sit here with everyone, laugh about stupid jokes and forget about our mission and the dangers ahead. Even if it's just for a little while.

I spend most of my time in camp with Aragorn, Boromir and the hobbits. Since there is not much going on except for the fencing lessons, I have a lot of downtime on my hands. Some of it is spent exploring the city or bothering someone with questions on Sindarin, but I also try to improve my swordplay on my own. There is not much I can do, except for practicing certain strikes or combinations. Without an opponent I can only try to improve my form but the thought of the events to come pushes me to do as much as I can. I know what is still to come and getting killed because I messed up a technique would seriously suck. Most of it is done well out of sight from the others on a nearby clearing. There is no way in hell I'll show them how scared I actually am.

I also try to take every chance I get to spar with Aragorn and Boromir. They still kick my ass time and time again, but now I manage to get hits in now and then. Back in Rivendell that hadn't been the case. It was nice to see that I've made progress. Back then fighting had been fun. Heck, If I'd started learning it at home, I would have loved it. Then we had gone through Moria and suddenly it had turned into something I needed to learn in order to survive.

Git gud or get rekt.

Thus I did everything in my power to get good, even if that meant spending my downtime on a clearing practicing boring ass combinations.

Caras Galadhon turned out to be super interesting. Or at least the parts that I actually saw did. Since most of it is built on talans and I have no idea how to distinguish public and private talans, I decided to stick to the parts built on the ground. Talking to the elves turned out to be rather difficult. Most of the ones I came across spoke very little Westron and my Sindarin is far from good (and mostly acquired _13th Warrior_ style), so our 'conversations' would have probably driven any Grammar Nazi insane. It's still better than the bit of French my little sister and the guys from my LoL team taught me, considering that half of it is curse words.

Seeing everyone in clean clothes (and Aragorn without greasy hair) is also a refreshing sight - not that I looked any better during our time in the Wild.

We have been in Lórien for roughly two weeks now – it's really hard to keep track of the time here due weird Elven magic – and I'm sitting at the fire bowl, trying to roast some bread with cheese for dinner while explaining the concept of Pizza to Merry and Pippin. Frodo is watching the scene from a distance, a small smile on his face. Our conversation is cut short when Aragorn walks up to us. He locks eyes with me and I immediately realize that this can't be good.

"Sorry for interrupting, but I need to talk to Laura once you are done," he says. Pippin is about to say something, but Aragorn quickly adds: "In private."

Okay. If this is about what I think it is, then I'd rather get it over with now. Plus I'm surprised by how long it took Aragorn to confront me. I hand my half-roasted bread over to Pippin, totally knowing that this means I won't be seeing it again, and stand up. "Nah, it's fine. Let's get this over with."

"As you wish." I wave at the hobbits as I follow Aragorn out of camp and into the surrounding forest. My heart is pounding way faster than I'd like. Having one more person finding out about my background is not something I'm looking forward to, even if said person is supposed to be a hundred percent trust worthy and has most likely figured out ninety percent already.

We pause after maybe ten minutes of walking in silence. The forest around us is quiet, except for the occasional rustling of leafs. Aragorn leans against a tree trunk and crosses his arms, never taking his eyes off me. "So, what is it?," I ask after a minute or two. I'm painfully aware that Andúril is dangling at his side and that he could easily off me, should he decide that I'm some kind of spy or whatever, as dumb as this might sound.

"I do not know why Gandalf and Elrond wanted you to be part of the fellowship –" That makes two of us. "- but I take it they trusted you. So far I trusted their intuition, but now that Gandalf... has fallen, I wish to ask you a few questions."

Okay, looks like I was right. Bullshitting is once more not an option, at least if I want to stay a trustworthy member the fellowship. Considering how no one has worn any weapons apart from the odd eating knife after the first two days, the sword on Aragorn's side is telling its own story. "Sure. Go ahead."

"Both of us know that you are not from Rohan. Now, where do you really hail from?" It was pretty clear that he would notice that sooner than later, especially since he spent time under King Théngel's command, if I'm not mistaken.

I end up giving him pretty much the same explanation I gave to Boromir back in Imladris and include an an a little more detailed account of the battle and of what I told Boromir about the Uruks. After a bit of hesitation I include the stuff Galadriel told me, too. Aragorn listens with a slight frown on his face and stays silent for some more minutes after I've finished my tale.

"I see," he says slowly, probably still busy with fitting the information he already has into the story. "More or less." He probably doesn't believe a word I said, which is exactly why I referred to my conversation with Galadriel. "It does explain your strange choice of words and mannerisms." He pauses for a second, remembering something. I'm pretty sure I just saw a flicker of suspicion on his face. "You spoke at the Council. About Saruman's influence in Rohan, correct?"

Ah, shit. That was really stupid in hindsight. Even the whole thing about 'keeping my cover up' doesn't make it any less idiotic. I shouldÄve known this would bite me in the ass at some point. But since I didn't expect I'd have to keep it up around people who are actually familiar with the culture of Rohan... Screw it. Too late now. "Yeah... that."

"So, how did you know about it?"

"Eh. I looked up a couple of things before the council... Maps, borders... so I had a basic idea of what you guys were talking about. Plus, as I told you, the Uruks were not exactly subtle about their Master's name and the name of his fortress. The rest was mostly some common sense and logic. And probably some luck." I get an incredulous look for my troubles. "Hey, I was right! Gandalf confirmed my story."

"Yes, I know." Aragorn's frown deepens and he sighs.

"Sorry. That was pretty stupid... If I had been wrong, it might have messed up the plan. I won't do something like that again." This gets me a nod of approval from Aragorn, even though he still doesn't look convinced. "Is there something else you want to know?"

"No. Not right now. Your tale is... a lot to take in." He gestures into the direction of our camp. "Thank you for being honest. That is all I wanted to know."

"Sure. No problem." I smile a little. "Just ask if you want to know something else."

I slowly walk back to camp. Once I'm out of earshot from Aragorn I breath a sigh of relief. That went rather well, considering what kind of crazy shit we talked about.

Thank you for being honest.

I wish, man. I wish.

If there's anything I need to take away from this, than it's probably that I'll have to be _way_ more careful about the information I spread, spoiler or none. And I'll have to be careful about mentioning my back story to anyone else here, if there is a risk that they might see through it. Shit, I should have come up with a better plan than that idiotic cliché story. I have no idea if Aragorn actually bought my story, but at least it seemed like I managed to convince him somewhat.

The rest of our stay was rather unremarkable. My explanation seemed to have satisfied Aragorn because he never actually followed up on our first conversation with more questions. I did feel like he kept a closer eye on me than before, though. Our departure drew nearer and nearer, and with it of course the events of Amon Hen. I knew that I had to make a decision at some point and that time was running out, but I just couldn't do it. Both options sucked and I couldn't figure out a way to get around them. A nagging voice kept reminding me that _Battle for Middle Earth_ and various stories got away with saving Boromir without dooming the entire time line, but to me it seemed like too big a risk. But letting someone – especially a good friend - walk right into their death without even trying to do something about it seemed like a heartless dick move to me.

Then, after nearly four weeks, came the day when I realized that our time in Lórien was nearly up. It was backed up by the messenger Galadriel sent to our camp on the very same evening. Since I had just returned from taking I bath, I only catch the tail end of the message the elf had delivered. But form what I figure Galadriel and Celeborn asked us to visit their hall for a last time. I actually haven't seen anything of Galadriel after our arrival, so I'm curious to see if she has anything else she might want to tell me.

It takes only half an hour until everyone is ready to go, since we want to look presentable when meeting the Lord and the Lady. Aragorn even talked me into putting on a dress.

The first thing I notice when we enter the hall this time around is, that it's empty except for Galadriel and Celeborn, who are standing in front of their seats, their eyes resting on us with stern expressions that could rival Elrond. We sit down on the cushions in front of them, just like we did last time.

After everyone is seated, Celeborn looks at us with a frown. "Great darkness lays ahead of you. I cannot see were your path will lead you, but you may remain in Lórien, if anyone of you wishes to do so. We only ask that you fight at our side when the darkness reaches Lothlórien." Silence follows his words, while Galadriel looks at us much like she did when we first arrived. Looks like this is round two of mind reading.

It's much quicker this time and there aren't any mysterious comments either. At least there are no bad news from home. On the other hand I really want to know what's going on there and had hoped to finally get some good news. Galadriel smiles at us once she's done. "All of them have decided to go on," she says in a voice so quiet that I nearly don't catch it.

Celeborn nods. He doesn't look surprised in the slightest.

The conversation that ensures is mostly about stuff I already know: the way we are to take is discussed, but again, Aragorn isn't sure how he actually wants to get into Mordor. Boromir still wants everyone to go to Minas Tirith, but gets shot down multiple times during the following argument.

In the end he just shakes his head and grumbles something under his breath. It sounds suspiciously like "It would be foolish to throw away..." But it's not quiet enough and everyone hears it. An awkward pause follows. "...to throw away so many lives," Boromir adds quickly.

Riiight, I'm sure that's what you wanted to say. He gets a couple of dirty looks before the conversation continues, but no one comments on it.

I'm just listening to what's being said, mostly because there's really no point in getting involved in the whole Mordor vs. Minas Tirith argument. Legolas and Gimli have chosen the same strategy, but our plan is foiled when Celeborn casually asks the three of us which road we'd take.

Legolas shrugs while Gimli and I settle for some unintelligible muttering. Wait. When did Legolas pick up shrugging? Interesting...

The chances of me having to decide are actually pretty low, so I really don't give a crap and instead wish everyone here would just get over themselves already. It's the Council of Elrond all over again, damn it! "The question is if eight people can sneak into Mordor or if it might make more sense to send fewer. But deciding who goes should be Aragorn's call," I say with a shrug, since Celeborn had waited for an actual answer. I know Aragorn will consider this solution anyway, so there is really no problem with spoiling it. Plus it's incredibly obvious anyway.

And if everything would go to plan we'd be screwed without it anyway, since no one could help out Rohan. The Ring might get destroyed, but everyone would get shit on by Saruman anyway. I'm not even sure if there is a realistic chance to get through Mordor without Aragorn prank buzzing at the Black Gate.

"That sounds like a big risk," Galadriel comments. Oh really.

"So? This whole mission is one giant risk. All I'm saying is that eight people are more noticeable than, say, four or five." I get nods from Aragorn, Celeborn and Boromir for that. Legolas frowns and Gimli grumbles something into his beard. Galadriel however has maintained her perfect poker face.

After that the discussion goes back to the topic of how to break into Mordor, a question that has remained unsolved since the first council meeting. One does not simply walk into it, after all. Merry, Pippin and Sam have nodded off at this point and I really can't fault them for it. It's not like they are missing anything crucial anyway. In the end it is decided that we will follow the Anduin south and decide on a route once we make it to Rauros. Yeah, looks like I'm not the only one who sucks at making decisions.

Oh well. I guess that's what you get for sending a bunch of politicians on a quest to save the world.

Aragorn looks relieved that he has still a few days to come up with a plan. He gladly accepts the boats Celeborn wants to gift us. By the time we leave the hall it's already way past midnight.

I hardly get any sleep that night. The thought of leaving Lórien and being on the road – or river – again is filling me with trepidation, sadness and the tiniest spark of excitement.

I wake up shortly after sunrise and am nearly instantly fully alert. Today we will continue down the Anduin. Today the real countdown for Amon Hen begins. I'm not ready for that bit, but improvising really isn't an option. With a sigh I get off my bed, realizing how I'll probably miss it sixteen hours from now. The elves once again left a basket with clothing in my tent. Most of the contents are my original travel clothes, but there is also some kind of padded jacket. After the episode in Moria I'd guess that it goes under my mail. It seems to be pretty sturdy, even though it feels light and isn't even that thick. Cool.

Packing up my stuff only takes a few minutes, after all I don't have much except for a spare set of clothes and a few smaller things. I dump my pack in front the tent and quickly light the fire bowl since I'm the first one awake. It's super early, so I hurry off to take one last bath before we leave. Since it will probably take two weeks until my next warm bath, there is no chance I'll pass up this opportunity, even if I have to be extremely quick about it.

When I get back, most of the others are up and in some cases still busy packing. There is nothing I can help with, so I join Aragorn and Gimli, who are having breakfast at the fire. The mood is glum. No one is looking forward to leaving, not even Boromir who managed to get over his initial misgivings. The foggy and surprisingly cold weather isn't helping either.

Half an hour later a couple of elves show up. Each one is carrying a basket with supplies, most of it food. Dried fruit, bread, but for the most part Lembas. They give us a short explanation on how it works after Pippin has eaten a whole waffle. No new information for me, but still amazing to see.

Next up are the elven cloaks. As three of the four elves help us with fixing them around our necks, the fourth one tells us that Lady Galadriel and some of her maidens sewed them for us and that it's a huge honor to wear them as outsiders. If it wasn't for the anxiety I'm feeling right now, I'd probably break out into a fangirly grin as an elf drapes the silky fabric over my shoulders and sticks the mallorn leaf clasp in place.

The cloth is shimmering in various shades of green and gray, depending on how the light is hitting it. It looks way cooler than the simple green cloaks they used in the movies. This way it's actually believable that these things can hide you from unfriendly eyes.

Once everyone has received their cloak we start out towards the gates. As we walk through the sleeping city, I try to burn every last detail into my brain. It's sad to think that this place will begin to fade as soon as the ring is destroyed. But no light without shadow, I guess. It's just now that I realize how much of a home this place has become to me. Not as much as Rivendell, but it's close.

Haldir is waiting for us at the gates to lead us the rest of the way to the shores of Anduin. Frodo seems to be especially happy to see him. The marchwarden bows with a smile and greets us in Sindarin before we get going again. The four other elves stay behind and wave goodbye. I glance back at the hedge that hides Caras Galadhon from view and sigh. I really hope I'll see this place again some day.

We make it to our destination around early afternoon. It's a tongue of land between the Anduin and another, smaller river. It could be the Silverlode, but I'm not entirely sure. There are no trees here, only soft grass with a couple of golden flowers here and there. There are, however, lots of boats tied up at the shore. Most of them are white or gray, but there are also a couple of green or golden ones. All of them share the same elegant design I already saw in the buildings of Caras Galadhon.

Haldir leads us to three small, white boats which have been moored a short way off from the other ones. The same three boats I've seen a hundred times in a certain movie trilogy. The elves have already loaded them up with equipment for us. Most of it seems to be food, ropes, blankets and some bundles of spare arrows for Legolas. That's super nice of them.

Haldir glances at Pippin, who is looking at the river with obvious distaste. "Does anyone of you have experience with boats?," he asks.

Aragorn and Boromir nod. "Same here," I add after a moment's hesitation. Turns out Legolas and Merry know their way around boats as well. Sure, Legolas makes sense, but Merry? Probably because he's from Buckland.

Merry must have noticed the surprised looks he is getting. "Not every hobbit thinks boats are wild horses," he grumbles with a shrug.

I have done quite a bit of canoeing with my father and sister back home. Cool that at least a small part of my skill set is useful here. My sister and I used to quote lines from the Lord of the Rings whenever we were on a river. Soon I'll have the chance to hear all these lines live from the people who are meant to say them.

We quickly split into three groups. Aragorn, Frodo and a very unhappy looking Sam are the first one, Boromir, Merry, Pippin and I are the second one, and Gimli and Legolas volunteer to take the last boat with all of our gear in it. There has been less and less bickering between the two and I'm not surprised by the development at all. Sadly I didn't see much of it in Lórien, since they spent so much time away from camp.

"It would be best if you tried handling the boats here, where the waters are calm," Haldir suggests. "You should try taking them up the Silverlode." Good idea. It has been a while since I last went canoeing, so making sure my skills are still there seems like a good plan.

Boromir throws his pack and shield into the boat and climbs in first. He continues to help Merry and me in and passes me one of the white, leaf shaped paddles. It feels smooth and surprisingly light in my grip.

Pippin is the last one to get in, uncertain and with stumbling steps. Once he sits down, the hobbit clings to the bench with both hands like he is afraid he might fall out. While we wait for the others I quickly unbuckle my sword belt. It's rather cramped in here and the long blade sticking out behind me is only in the way right now. It won't make a difference if I have to draw it, anyway.

After Aragorn has finally managed to coax Sam into getting on board, Haldir quickly unties the ropes connecting us to the shore. Boromir and I push us out into the stream and we begin to paddle up the Silverlode. The boats are fast and easy to maneuver, but moving against the current still requires a ton of strength.

After about half a mile a boat shaped like a swan appears further up the river. "What's that?," Pippin whispers, his voice a mixture of excitement and awe. "It looks like a giant swan!"

"A ship!" Merry squints into the light. "And Lady Galadriel is standing in it." Ah, yes. We haven't gotten the gifts yet. I wonder what kind of gift she might give me. If I even get one. Or if something is going to different from canon. But since nothing major has changed so far, I doubt it.

It takes only a couple of minutes until the swan ship and Aragorn's boat are on the same height. I can't hear what's being said, but after a minute Aragorn rises a hand and shouts: "Turn! Turn around!" We quickly do as he says and fall in behind Galadriel and Celeborn.

When we return to the tongue of land, the elves have set up a great, white pavilion with a long table and seats for all of us. I have no idea where they got the stuff and how they were able to set it up this fast. Eh, elves I guess. We maneuver the boats to the shore and Boromir jumps out first, rocking the small vehicle dangerously. Merry tosses him a rope so he can tie it up before helping us get out. I don't know the first thing about tying knots and watch him and Sam in fascination as they work. I really should ask them about it at some point.

We sit down together with the Lord and Lady, Haldir and a couple of other elves I don't recognize. Their clothes suggest that they might be high ranking, but I really can't remember having met them before. The food is delicious, even if it's simple for Lórien standards. And it's probably enough to keep the hobbits from devouring a ton of lembas during the next few hours.

After we are done eating, Celeborn dismisses the other elves with a wave of his hand. Haldir takes the time to say his goodbyes to each of us and even apologizes once more for binding Gimli's eyes when we arrived. After that he follows the others to the boats.

Once they are gone, Galadriel and Celeborn rise from their chairs. The Lady picks up a golden goblet. "The time has come," she says, "for you to leave and continue on your quest. But before you do so, I wish to share this last drink with you." She takes a sip and hands the goblet over to Celeborn, who does the same before passing it to Aragorn.

After everyone has taken a drink, Galadriel speaks again. "We have prepared gifts for you to remember Lórien and its Lord and Lady by, and to aid you on your mission." A smile passes over her face as she begins handing them out. To everyone she says a few words but they are too quiet for me to hear.

Aragorn gets a new, beautiful scabbard for Anduril and a green stone, Legolas gets a new bow and arrows, Boromir gets a belt, Merry and Pippin get small knives, Sam gets a little box that's filled with earth and a Mallorn seed if I'm not mistaken, and Frodo gets a vial filled with the Light of Eärendil. Gimli asks Galadriel for a lock of hair and I swear he turned as red as a tomato under his beard. Galadriel's ears seemed to turn a darker shade of pink too. I get an intricately decorated dagger.

Looks like nothing changed. That's good, I guess? After all Galadriel should know what is going to happen and thus act accordingly. But since the gifts are the same, their purpose should be the same. Boromir is going to die according to her forsight. The thought stings, but I quickly push it into the back of my mind. There is nothing I can do about it right now.

Together we walk to the boats where the other elves are waiting for us. They help us as we climb in, untie the ropes and push us onto the stream with long poles. I watch them as we slowly float further and further away from them. Some are waving, some are calling out to us in Sindarin and a few are crying. Galadriel strikes up a sad, slow song. It doesn't sound like Sindarin at all and I can't understand a thing, so I guess it's Quenja. This has to be the saddest goodbye I've ever seen.

I stare back wistfully as we drift along the shore of Lórien faster and faster. Tears are clouding my vision and I'm pretty sure the others aren't faring any better. Leaving this place… Right now it feels like the most horrible thing that could possibly happen on our journey.

Then we pass a river bend and the green shore is gone from my sight. Suddenly the world seems a lot darker and the dangers and shadows hanging above our heads feel more real then ever. Battles, sieges… I wonder what course I am to take from here on out. And what the chances are that all of us will meet again in the end.

With a sigh I think back to what Galadriel told me when she handed me the dagger. _Remember that everything you do will have consequences. Some you may see instantly, others will be hidden from you until much later. I do not know why you are here, but this is your world now and you are part of the fellowship. Making sure the quest succeeds is to be your highest priority._ I can still see her serious face in front of me, the ageless eyes boring into mine. _The things I told you about may never come to pass. Do not let be your guide._

I stare at the dead, skeleton like trees on the eastern shore and wipe the tears from my face with the sleeve of my jacket. This is it. Shit is about to get real and I'm far from prepared.

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, faved, followed or read the story! I hope you enjoyed.**

**Ninjagirl: Thank you! I'm trying to include bits and pieces of her back story whenever it makes sense and hopefully isn't boring. There will be more in future chapters, though!**

**Stormrunner: We'll have to see about that! I'm not going to deny or confirm anything down here :P About the romance: Yes, especially if the love interest is a certain elf.**

**Guest, Elleth and Lufie: Thanks, guys! I'm glad you are enjoying the story!**

**Cuofeng: Thank you for the detailed reviews! You rise some very good points that I will keep in mind when I get around to rewriting the first few chapters. The mistakes you pointed out should be fixed soon after this chapter is online!**


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